


The Renaissance

by Elderflower



Series: What difference can one person make? [5]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Emotional Trauma, F/M, Memory Alteration, Physical Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-07 04:17:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 96,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6784882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elderflower/pseuds/Elderflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Battle of the Five Armies is over, the armies of the Iron Hills, Dale and the Woodland Realm are slowly trying to clear up the mess left behind. Closer to home, the company of Thorin Oakenshield must reap the consequences of their quest, both good and bad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Second Awakaning

**Author's Note:**

> Kili finds himself in a whole new emotional labyrinth after Vana wakes up...

_ Kíli _

Kíli paced outside of the tent, walking back and forth in an attempt to keep his head from exploding while he waited for the healers. Why did he say it? Why did he have to open his big mouth again? He couldn’t understand it. Vana, his Vana, no longer seemed to think she was Vana.  
_Cairi_ , she’d said. When he had corrected her, tried to remind her of what had happened, she had only become more confused. Then he had to go and mention the battle and she had erupted into a full-scale panic; her screams had brought the healers running – a man and a woman trading supplies with the dwarves’ camp - and before he knew it he had been hustled from the tent while they attempted to calm her.  
_Good work Kíli…_  
“Kíli!”  
He stopped his pacing as he spotted Dwalin sprinting towards him, with Kíli’s brother hot on his heels.  
“What’s happenin’?” Dwalin demanded gruffly. “We heard the healers -”  
“They’re in with her now,” Kíli replied automatically, barely registering his own voice.  
“So she’s -”  
“She’s awake,” Kíli nodded and immediately blocked Dwalin’s path as he made to go past him. “No, you can’t go in yet.”  
“Why not?”  
“What’s going on, Kíli?” Fíli stepped closer to him, his eyes full of concern.  
“She…” he faltered. _How do I even begin to explain…?_ “She won’t know you.” He attempted to look at Dwalin but failed, his gaze falling to the ground. “She doesn’t know any of us. She can’t remember.”  
“She’s lost her memory?” Fíli frowned.  
“Not exactly…”  
“Ah blast it Kíli!” Dwalin growled. “Tell us!”  
“She…she didn’t recognise me, and when I tried to…she said her name was Cairi…”  
There was a beat of silence and Kíli couldn’t have looked up from his feet if he tried.  
“Cairi?” Fíli finally breathed. “What -?”  
“It’s her name. Her _real_ name,” Kíli sighed, the sheer weight of it all finally hitting him. “Before she came to us.”  
Another heavy silence fell upon them, broken only by Dwalin’s hushed curse as he turned away from Kíli, rubbing a large, armoured hand over his face. Fíli reached out and grasped his brother’s shoulder and Kíli only realised then how unsteady he really was on his feet, leaning into Fíli’s hold.  
“How are you feeling?” Fíli asked him, his voice barely above a whisper.  
Kíli could only shake his head in response.  
At that moment the tent flap opened and the healers came out once more, bearing exhausted expressions. They had barely registered the dwarves’ presence when Dwalin stormed up to them, his lack of height rendered completely irrelevant by the fierce expression on his face.  
“What’s goin’ on in there?”  
The healers balked for a moment, completely taken aback, before the man stepped defensively in front of the woman.  
“She’s sedated. We were told to fetch the wizard if there was any change in her condition.”  
His final words had barely passed his lips when Dwalin pushed past him, storming into the tent.  
“You shouldn’t -!”  The healer’s protest was cut off by Fíli and Kíli following suit.  
Vana was lying on her side, her back facing the opening of the tent, looking entirely peaceful, as if she had never woken in the first place. A sharp pain seemed to lance through Kíli’s chest as he beheld her, her mad screams echoing inside his head. He watched Dwalin make his way slowly around her side, kneeling down to take her small, outstretched hand in his.  
“Oh lass…” he whispered, apparently unable to say much else.  
For the first time since the battle, Kíli wanted to be as far away from that tent as possible. Dwalin hadn’t seen her face, hadn’t heard her protests.

 _“Cairi?” He frowned at her. “No, Vana, it’s me.”_  
“I’m sorry, you’re mistaken,” she said firmly, looking away from him. Kíli felt as though he had been punched in the stomach as she seemed to unconsciously situate herself as far from him as possible. In fact, he would rather she had simply punched him.  
“Where am I?” she frowned, looking around her.  
He swallowed, thinking as hard as he could about his words. “In a tent, just outside the mountain.”  
“Mountain?”  
It was his turn to frown. “Aye, Erebor. You’ve been here about two -”  
“Erebor?” Her eyes widened as she finally looked at him again. “That can’t be! The dragon-!”  
“Is dead,” he said, keeping his voice level to the best of his ability. “Smaug was shot down in Laketown over a fortnight ago now.”  
“I don’t understand. I -” She tried to sit up but keeled over with a strangled gasp, clutching her chest.  
Kíli cursed and darted forwards, gently laying his hands on her shoulders to lie her back down, only for her to recoil as if he’d burned her.  
“Don’t touch me!” she hissed, her lips pulled back in a feral snarl, her face still contorted in pain. “What’s wrong with me? Why does it hurt so much?”  
“Vana -”  
“That’s not my name!”  
“I’m sorry!” Kíli backed away, raising his hands in submission. “You were wounded in the battle. We brought you -”  
“What battle?” she cried, her eyes going wide. “Who’s ‘we?’ Who are YOU?”  
“I’m Kíli!” he said desperately, forcing himself to remain still and not rush to her and grab her by the arms. “You were with me and my uncle’s company. We all fought in a battle for the mountain. You saved my life!”  
“I was nowhere NEAR the mountain!” she cried, her eyes mad with confusion. “I was in the woods! Where is everyone? I need to find them -” she attempted to sit up again, causing the blanket to slip down her front. She glanced down at herself and then looked up at him with nothing but fear.  
“What happened to my clothes?”

Her words and their implication had felt like a thousand daggers in his heart. He had barely begun to shake his head when she had started screaming. The fear in her eyes when she looked at him…it was an expression he recognised all too well, and he had vowed years ago to kill anyone who caused her to wear it.  
The realisation was like a rope around his throat and he backed out of the tent rapidly, almost knocking into his brother.  
“Kee?” Fíli called after him as he turned to walk away as fast as he could, breaking into a run and speeding between the tents. The days he had spent by Vana’s side coupled with his healing injury meant that it wasn’t long before his muscles were cramping and he was forced to slow down, gritting his teeth against the burning spreading down his legs.  
“Kíli!”  
Fíli had caught up to him and was grabbing him by the arm even as he tried to wrench himself free.  
“Kíli, stop!” Fíli managed to step in front of him, gripping him roughly by the arms.  
“Let me go,” Kíli growled at his older brother.  
“No, come on,” Fíli pulled him towards a nearby tent. “In here.”  
“You shouldn’t be running,” he said gruffly, feeling the sudden urge to hit his brother. “Not with your head injury.”  
“Then don’t give me a reason to run,” Fíli retorted. “Kee, tell me what happened. Tell me exactly.”  
Kíli felt his mouth go dry as the details came flooding back and it took him three attempts to speak before he finally managed to force out the words. He told Fíli everything, unable to look at him until he had finished. What he had dreaded most was the pity, but Fíli, as he later reminded himself, was never one to look upon another with pity, particularly his own brother. Instead he looked at Kíli with a shared sadness.  
“I’m so sorry Kee,” Fíli finally said in a hushed voice. “That can’t have been easy for you.”  
“No,” Kíli shook his head. “The worst thing was when she – when she realised her clothes were – she thought that I had…” he couldn’t bring himself to say the words.  
“Kee,” Fíli sighed, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure she didn’t -”  
“You didn’t see her face,” Kíli said flatly. “You didn’t see the look in her eyes. She was afraid of me...she was terrified…” His throat clenched painfully as he tried to swallow the sobs that threatened to erupt. Fíli was one step ahead of him and suddenly pulled him into an embrace. His first instinct was to push him away, but instead Kíli found himself grabbing onto his brother’s back, burying his face into his shoulder as he sobbed. He hated himself, he felt like a child, but gods, did he need his brother at that moment.

_ Cairi _

First it was dark, but not the dark of night; more the dark that exists when you close your eyes – blocked rather than not present at all. Then the soft light of a torch broke through, unsteady and dim.  
Someone was speaking softly, someone with a deep, gruff voice – a man’s voice. Instinct reared its ugly head, but even that most basic part of my mind was heavily laced with fatigue.  
_Wake up!_ I shouted inside my head, easing my eyes open at a frustratingly slow pace. The source of the voice was sitting opposite me against the wall of the tent. His entire appearance screamed ‘danger’; the armour covering his otherwise bare arms and hands, the fierce eyes beneath the dark, heavy brow, the dark beard that obscured the entire lower half of his face, weighing his mouth down into a permanent scowl.  
He straightened up as he noticed me wake and I tensed as he raised an armoured hand as if to reach out to me.  
“It’s alright lass,” he whispered (as close as a voice like that could come to a whisper). “I’m not goin’ teh harm yeh. Yer safe in here.”  
I squeezed my eyes shut and clenched my fists in an attempt to wake my muscles up, opening them again to look up at the man. His expression, despite the ferocity of his features, was sad and the shadows around his eyes made him look as if he hadn’t slept in weeks. He kept his distance, holding my gaze until I finally managed to speak.   
“Where’s Micah?”  
His brow creased into a frown. I pressed on, my heart starting to race as I began to remember.  
“My brother. My little brother. I told him to hide in the trees. He’s only six, please?” I looked at him pleadingly.  
“I…” he began to answer but faltered, shaking his head slightly. “I don’t know lass, I haven’t seen him.”  
I swallowed hard, trying to force my legs to move.  
“How long have I -?” I began to ask before another figure entered my line of sight. His hair and beard were long and shockingly white, his countenance stern and noble, but his eyes seemed kind as his mouth softened into a smile.  
“Lass,” he addressed me in a friendly tone. “It’s good to see you awake.”  
“Who’re you?” I growled as he moved to sit next to the other. His smile faltered slightly as he answered, though he seemed determined to keep it up.  
“Balin, son of Fundin and elder brother of Dwalin here.” He gestured to Dwalin who flinched, his face completely blanching for a moment before he pressed his lips tightly together and swallowed hard. “I understand this must be confusing, but you don’t need to fear us. We’re here to help you.”  
_He is being far too polite._  
“You can help me by letting me go and find my brother,” I said pointedly, moving my sluggish arms underneath me to try and sit up. “He doesn’t know how to survive by himself.”  
“Lass, yeh can’t go anywhere as yeh are,” Dwalin said sternly, edging forward until I glared at him.  
“Am I a prisoner here?”  
“Of course yer not.”  
“Then I have to go!” I snapped, sitting up only for a sudden cold to gust over my chest. I glanced down to see my shirt half-cut away to reveal an ugly round scar beneath my chest – a shirt and scar I had never seen before.  
I clutched the blankets to my chest and turned furiously to the man who hadn’t moved.  
“What is this place?” I hissed, my fists beginning to tremble from gripping the blankets so tightly. “Why am I here? What do you want?!”  
“I promise you,” Balin said calmly. “I swear on my life that you are safe here. No one will harm you.”  
“I don’t believe you!” I cried. “Where are my clothes? And how did I get this scar?”  
“You were injured,” he said. “There was a battle.”  
_Battle._  
The word sent images flooding into my mind; _a dark-haired man, he looked exhausted, ill, he called me Vana…_  
“The man who was here before…?”  
“Kíli,” Balin told me.  
“Not a Man,” Dwalin cut in. “A Dwarf.”  
“Dwarf?” I repeated, frowning and peering at them. Suddenly their appearances simultaneously made more and less sense. “But…there aren’t any dwarves this far east.”  
“There are now,” Dwalin said, his voice suddenly softer, much more tired.  
“Do you know where we are lass?” Balin asked, his face worryingly expressionless.  
I tried to think back, tried to remember names and faces, but all I remembered was running; running into the trees, looking into Micah’s huge, terrified eyes and telling him to hide.  
“I…I was in the woods, by the Gladden Fields…” My words disappeared as I beheld their expressions, their exchanged glance.  
“We’re at the foot of the Lonely Mountain,” said Balin. Despite his gentle tone, the words felt like hammer strokes on my head. I felt myself shrink into the blankets under the weight of his words, trying to form some sort of logical timeline inside my head.  
“Erebor is abandoned,” I whispered.  
“Not anymore.”  
“The dragon -”  
“Is dead,” Dwalin cut in. “Shot down over Lake-town over two weeks ago now.”  
“I…” I shook my head, forcing myself to focus. “I have to find my brother. He can’t have gone far from where you found me. He might still be hiding there, or he’ll have gone back to the camp to look for our parents.”  
The two dwarves exchanged another look.  
“You didn’t see the camp?” I asked them.  
They made no answer, nor did they look at me.  
“It’s not far from where you found me!” I insisted desperately. “I know it’s a long way back from here, and I understand why you brought me here, but I -”  
“Lassie,” Balin finally said, turning to face me once more. “Do you know what day it is?”  
“Well apparently I’ve been here for a while,” I huffed. “But the last I knew it was the 17 th of April.”  
There was a pause before Dwalin spoke.  
“And the year?”  
I turned to face him defiantly.  
“2931 of the third age, by Gondor reckoning.”  
A deep sadness filled Dwalin’s eyes and he took a deep, shuddering breath as he looked away from me. His reaction sent a shiver running through me, making goosebumps appear on my arms and I turned back to Balin with a frown. He was shaking his head slowly.  
“It’s the 5th of December in the year 2941.”

Silence enveloped the tent and time seemed to stretch into an eternal abyss. I blinked stupidly, dug my fingernails into my palms, swallowed hard and then swallowed again. I did everything I could to wake up from this nightmare. Nothing worked, so I started shaking my head.  
“No, no…”  
“It’s true, lass,” Balin told me, his voice infuriatingly gentle. “You can ask anyone here.”  
“I…”  
Nothing made sense anymore, nothing added up, nothing could be trusted. I clenched my fists and pressed them against the sides of my head, digging into my temples to force myself to wake up.  
“I don’t understand,” I moaned, teeth gritted against the pain.  
“The 17th of April, 2931,” Dwalin began, his voice shaking as if he was battling to keep it steady. “Was the day we met yeh. Our leader, Thorin, brought yeh to our settlement in the Blue Mountains.”  
“No,” I hissed, shaking my head more fiercely. “I was nowhere near the Blue Mountains.”  
“He found yeh on the road,” Dwalin carried on as if I’d never spoken. “Yeh didn’t know how yeh got there, yeh didn’t know yer name.”  
“My name is Cairi,” I whimpered, digging my nails further into my palms as my voice cracked. “I’m a traveller who sings for coins. My parents don’t have any money to give you, I don’t know anything except how to sing and play, I’m not worth anything, please -”  
“No, no lass,” Balin interjected, his eyes wide with horror. “We don’t want anything from you -”  
“THEN WHY AM I HERE?” I shrieked, tearing my hands from my head and leaping to my feet. “WHAT DO YOU WANT!”  
“Nothin’, lass,” Dwalin said, getting to his feet. Despite the fact we were the same height, he still seemed even bigger standing in front of me and I instinctively turned to a defensive stance.  
“Why did you bring me here?” I growled.  
“We didn’t -”  
“DON’T LIE TO ME!” I screamed, taking my chance and sprinting out of the tent.

The icy wind hit me smack in the chest and I nearly keeled over as the freezing air was sucked into my lungs. The ground beneath my feet was hard and riddled with frost but still I ran, ignoring the protests of my feet and legs. Before long my muscles were cramping from lack of use and tears were pouring down my face, freezing onto my skin. I darted between the tents, pausing only when my legs felt like they were about to tear free of my body.  
I collapsed behind the tent, forcing myself to sit upright as I took in the sight before me.  
The ruins of a city stood solemnly in front of me, smoke rising from various sites behind the walls as fires were being lit for the night. The walls were crumbled in many places, many of its buildings in at least some if not total disarray. The sun was low enough that the sky behind was turning dark orange, with purple hues extending out behind the city, making the walls seem even darker save the spots the sun was still hitting. It was a beautifully sad image.  
I gulped as I turned to peer back around the side of the tent. Dwarves milled around between the tents, many carrying bundles of weapons or armour, or else rolls of material and sacks filled with supplies. They were in various states of dress, some only in clothes while others wore at least parts of their armour. Many had swords or axes strapped to their backs.  
Behind the crowds, towering over the vast campsite, silhouetted dangerously against the darkening sky, stood a single mountain; Erebor.  
The mere sight of it was enough to send me cowering backwards; and then there was the additional blow of realising the dwarves were telling the truth.  
_But none of it makes sense!_  
I curled up behind the tent, cradling my face in my hands as I searched every inch of mind desperately for any sort of answer. All I received was a mesh of different sights and sounds; gleaming swords, thundering hooves, the crack of a whip, lightning flashes, inhuman screeches, falling fire, eagles flying, growling and roaring and blood and snow…  
“Vana?”  
A voice broke through the whirring onslaught of images, making them fall flat as my head whipped up. A small man was crouching in front of me, his large green eyes peering kindly at me even as he shifted uncomfortably and his nose twitched like a rabbit.  
“Bilbo?” I said without thinking. He straightened slightly as if standing to attention and I frowned at him. “That’s your name?” _How for the love of any and all the gods did I know that?_  
His brow furrowed slightly in confusion as he nodded.  
“Yes, of course it is,” he said before breaking into a smile. “It’s so good to see you awake! Gandalf’s looking for you.”  
“Gandalf?” I asked, thinking of the dwarves.  
“Yes,” Bilbo said patiently. “Remember him? Tall, grey beard, pointed hat, wizard -?”  
“Wizard!” I gasped, the image of him filling my mind, as clear as day as I leapt to my feet. “I need to see him! Where is he?”  
“Uh…” Bilbo got to his feet – which I suddenly realised were huge, hairy and bore no shoes.  
_A hobbit?_  
“I’m right here.”  
I jumped at the deep rasping voice that appeared behind me and spun round to find a tall, old man all clad in grey, with a pointed hat perched on his head. In his hand he held a long, gnarled staff, and at his side a sword hung from his belt. I gulped as I looked up into his eyes, glittering blue even beneath his heavy, grey eyebrows.  
This was not the wizard I had pictured.  
“No, you’re not the wizard,” I said, backing away defensively.  
“I am _a_ wizard,” Gandalf said flatly. “I may not be _the_ wizard you are looking for, but I am still a wizard.”  
I stared at him blankly, trying to discern his expression. He looked as if he knew me, but at the same time he seemed to be studying me, his bushy eyebrows pulling together in a quizzical frown.  
“Your companions are looking for you,” he said, turning to look back into the array of tents.  
“No!” I said, backing away further. “Please don’t send me back there.”  
“Vana, what -?” Bilbo started to speak but I cut him off.  
“That’s not my name! Why do you all insist on calling me that?!”  
“Bilbo,” Gandalf addressed him loudly. “My dear fellow, would you kindly inform Balin and Dwalin that she is with me and perfectly safe. And tell them not to disturb us.”  
Without a word, Bilbo nodded and with a passing frown at me he strode into the camp. I watched as he left, keeping half an eye on the wizard.  
“No need to worry,” Gandalf said with a small smile. “Come, let us walk. Perhaps I can assist you in some way?”  
“Like what?” I asked, wrapping my arms around myself as I suppressed a shiver.  
“Oh, forgive me, you are cold,” said Gandalf before reaching beneath his cloak and pulling out a large, light brown cardigan. “Here, put this on.”  
“That’s not mine,” I said pointedly.  
“Well nobody else here wants it and you are cold.” He fixed me with a look that promised no negotiation and I grudgingly accepted the cardigan. It was far too big, and it smelled slightly of fish, but it was warm and, oddly, also vaguely familiar. I wrapped it around myself and followed when Gandalf gestured for me to follow.  
“Now,” he said softly and kindly. “If the wizard you were looking for wasn’t me, may I ask who it was?”  
“I don’t know his name,” I replied. “He was dressed in rags and wore a thick, brown cloak. He looked nothing like you.”  
“And where did you meet him?”  
“In the woods by the Gladden Fields. He found me and said he’d help me.”  
“You are speaking of Radagast the Brown, an old friend of mine. He keeps a watch over the Greenwood, though nowadays it’s called Mirkwood.”  
“Why?”  
“A dark power has been growing there, though it has been vanquished for now.”  
Neither of us spoke for the next few minutes, just continuing to walk between the tents. Several passing dwarves eyed me suspiciously as we went and I found myself shrinking closer to Gandalf.  
“Why do they keep staring at me?”  
“You’ve been a topic of conversation for the last couple of weeks. Many here still don’t believe the tale.”  
“What tale?”  
“That you travelled with Thorin Oakenshield and his company to the Lonely Mountain and saved not only his life, but those of his nephews on Ravenhill in the battle.”  
I stopped, staring after him as he carried on walking a few paces before turning back to look at me. His face was impassive, as if he’d done nothing but remark on the weather, and it really irritated me.  
“How can that be true?” I asked in a low voice, suddenly very aware of my surroundings.  
“Because it is,” Gandalf said, taking a step back towards me. I had to look up at him now, which only annoyed me more. “I fought in the Battle of the Five Armies with the Men of Dale and the Elves of the Woodland Realm. I watched the great Eagle Lord, Gwaihir, bring you and the heirs of Durin down from the battlefield.”  
“Why don’t I remember such a great battle?” I hissed.  
“That,” he replied sadly. “Is something I have yet to find an answer to.” He regarded me with a solemn expression for a few moments before speaking again. “Could you tell me the last thing you remember?”  
I gulped as the flashes of strange sounds and sights and smells threatened to overcome the forefront of my mind again, blinking rapidly to try and focus.  
“I don’t know, it’s all such a blur just now. I just remember the wizard.”  
“Radagast,” Gandalf clarified softly. “You say he found you in the woods?”  
“Yes.”  
“What were you doing in the woods?”  
“I…” I froze as the memory came flooding back. My entire body went rigid against the cold, despite the sudden urge to run as far away as possible. “I was trying to get away – they attacked us – my brother – I – they -”  
“Alright,” Gandalf’s large hand was suddenly on my shoulder and I felt a strange, comforting warmth flood my tensed muscles. “It’s alright.”  
I said nothing, suddenly overcome with the urge to sleep. Slowly, Gandalf crouched down, until he was almost eye level with me.  
“Here is your tent,” he gestured to his left. “I will find Radagast for you.”  
I could only nod as he guided me towards the tent and before I knew it I was back on the soft bedroll and curling up into a deep slumber.


	2. A Stranger With a Familiar Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kili tries to approach Vana (or is it Cairi? Who knows at this point?)

_ Kíli _

His attempts to sleep that night were a complete disaster. At one point he found himself thinking he would have more success trying to rebuild the Erebor halls single-handedly. His thoughts plagued him like a spoilt child demanding attention; Vana fighting, falling, bleeding, dying…or not? Had she in fact died? He knew very little of Elvish magic but it seemed impossible to bring someone back from the dead, even for Elves. And Thranduil had been very clear that ‘ _mortals_ ’ such as her were meant to die. So she couldn’t have died, but then why was she different? Was it even her anymore? Was this Cairi an extension of the woman he knew? Or was Vana a mask that allowed her to survive in a new environment?  
His mind didn’t leave him alone even the next morning; he must have walked around the entire camp twice before, having decided that was more than long enough to pull himself together, he determinedly set off back to Vana’s tent.  
_Cairi_ , he reminded himself. _She’s Cairi now, don’t forget that._  
With a deep breath, a pitiable attempt to steady his nerves, he reached out to the tent flap and pulled it open slightly.  
“Va- Cairi?” He winced at his near slip-up. For a few moments he received no answer and he began to think she might be asleep.  
“Yes?” Her voice was so timid and quiet, nothing like it should be, and when he peered around the material he was met with the sight of her curled up under the blankets, her arms around her knees, her eyes gazing widely and fearfully at him. Beside her was a discarded plate and cup, both recently emptied.  
“May I come in?” he asked hoarsely.  
Slowly and carefully, she nodded and he entered, trying to keep a respectable distance even though all he wanted was to take her in his arms.   
“Uh...how are you feeling?”  
“Tired,” she answered and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. “Sore. Confused.”  
“You haven’t remembered anything?”  
She narrowed her eyes at him. “What exactly am I supposed to be remembering?”  
“Anything?” He slowly sat on the ground in front of her. “The Blue Mountains?”  
“I’ve never been to the Blue Mountains,” she said stiffly. “We never travel that far west.”  
“We?” he frowned.  
“My caravan.”  
Her answer did nothing to alter his confusion.  
“I travel with my family in a caravan,” she told him, her gaze stiffly locked on his. “Or I was ten years ago. Perhaps you could explain that to me?”  
“I…” he faltered. Her tone was harsh and accusing and it caught him off guard. He felt as if he should be defending himself. Instead, he cleared his throat and prepared his words carefully.  
“Ten years ago my uncle found you lost on the road. He brought you back to our home in Ered Luin -”  
“Yes, yes I know all that!” she snapped. “Your friends already told me.”  
“Then why are you asking me?” he retorted, before mentally chastising himself at how childish he sounded. As he expected, her eyes narrowed and her tone sharpened.  
“I’m asking you why I don’t remember any of it. You seem to know me, but you called me ‘Vana’. You told me I saved your life in a battle, why don’t I remember something like that?”  
“‘Vana’ was the name you chose for yourself,” he answered as steadily as he could manage. “We needed something to call you until your memories returned. You did save my life, you stabbed an orc in the back before he could kill me and you stood in front of a goblin crossbow aimed at my brother and I.”  
Her eyes widened at his words, all trace of anger gone as her face paled.  
“Orcs?” she repeated hoarsely. “Goblins? There are goblins nearby?”  
She suddenly looked so afraid he almost forgot himself and made to reach out to her. She shrank back, as if sensing his thoughts and he moved himself backwards, trying to reassure her.  
“We fought them off,” he told her gently. “Their leaders are dead and they ran back into their holes. They won’t be coming back.”  
“How can you be sure?” she snapped. Her eyes darting to the opening of the tent as if there could be an orc waiting to charge in at that moment. “Why did you bring me here?”  
“I didn’t bring you here,” he said as evenly as he could manage. “You came with us. You and I and thirteen others travelled for months together.”  
“Thirteen?” she frowned and shook her head.  
“Yes,” he nodded slowly. “Myself, Thorin, Fíli, Dwalin, Balin, Óin Glóin, Ori, Dori, Nori, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur and -”  
“Bilbo,” she said suddenly, her head snapping up to look at him.  
“Yes,” he couldn’t help but grin. “And there was a wizard with us.”  
“Gandalf,” she nodded. “I met them outside.”  
“Yes, yes!” he laughed excitedly. “We met Bilbo at his house, in the Shire, and then he didn’t want to come with us at first but then after we left he caught up with us and Fíli and I, we put him on a pony but he didn’t know to ride so you showed him -!”  
“Wait – wait!” She cut him off, frustratingly rubbing her forehead with her fingers. “I don’t – The Shire? Ponies? You’re not making sense!”  
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he said hurriedly. “I’m going too fast. You remember Bilbo, yes?”  
“I met him outside,” she said slowly.  
“Do you remember his house? The garden in front and the round green door?”  
“Round green…?” she muttered, shaking her head again.  
“Please try to remember?” he pleaded, desperately envisioning that green door as if he could plant the very image into her head.  
“I don’t…” She frowned harder and he fought the urge to scream.  
“We all had dinner in his hallway!” he tried again. “We emptied his pantry and we sang until Thorin arrived and told us about the quest.”  
“Stop, please, stop it!” she moaned, burying her face in her hands.  
“Vana, please, please try -”  
“DON’T CALL ME THAT!” She screamed, making him jump. “MY NAME IS CAIRI!”  
“I know, I’m sorry -” he tried but she was too far gone.  
“Get out! Just get out!” she yelled, her face contorting in anger. “I SAID GET OUT!”  
“What’s going on in here?”  
Balin’s white head appeared in the opening to the tent and Vana leapt up like a startled cat, backing into the corner of the tent.  
“LEAVE! ALL OF YOU LEAVE!”  
Unable to stand it anymore, Kíli raced out of the tent.  
“It’s alright,” he heard Balin say to her. “We’re going, it’s alright.”  
He walked as fast as possible through the row of tents until he felt the older dwarf catch hold of him.  
“Kíli, what happened?”   
“It was my fault,” he mumbled. “I pushed her too hard.”  
“I can’t hear you laddie,” he said kindly.  
“She doesn’t remember me Balin!” he snapped, his frustration bursting out of him. “She has no idea who I am, or who she is to me! I’m trying to help her but she just…ARGH!” He let out a scream of such fury it made the surrounding dwarves start, giving him disgruntled looks.  
Kíli ignored them, breathing hard as his anger gave way to dejection; everything he did seemed to make Vana angrier, more confused, more afraid of him. The comforting hand that appeared on his shoulder only served to make him feel worse.  
“What do I do Balin?” He looked up into his teacher’s old, kind face. When he was a dwarfling he used to believe that Balin knew everything, and even though it had been a long time since he had thought that, he found himself hoping beyond hope that he would have the answers.  
Instead, Balin only shook his head sadly.  
“You can only wait for her to remember laddie,” he said softly. “Wait and hope.” He may as well have taken his sword and plunged it into Kíli’s chest.

_ Cairi _

My heart began to slow and my breathing soften once he was gone.  
_Kíli_.  
The name was familiar enough to make something in my head click. It triggered the oddest sensation in me, like I was seeing a beacon set alight through a heavy fog, but the sight of his face so full of earnest as he spoke of things I shouldn’t know of, called me a name that wasn’t my own, it terrified me.  
Nothing made sense anymore. My entire world had been turned upside down and I didn’t know how to turn it back. I was lost in the woods with no way out.  
When I was calmer, I sat back down and closed my eyes, searching through my mind for anything even resembling this bizarre spin of reality.  
_Micah_ , I thought. _His face as I told him to run away, to hide. He was so scared, but still he ran._ That was the last thing I remembered. Then it was a blur.  
_A river trickling happily by, grass swaying in the breeze, the soft thud of horses’ hooves.  
A vast meadow surrounded by mountains, with a lake in the middle, home to over a hundred ponies.  
Apples.  
Ale – lots of ale. Too much ale…  
Fiddles and flutes and dancing.  
A crown of flowers for a prince.  
Hard hands grabbing my arms.  
Swords clashing and whirring through the air.  
Arrows landing with a satisfying thud into the tree trunk.  
A grey pony galloping past me in the meadow.  
The smell of pipeweed and smoke in the cosy living room.  
Chamomile tea.  
Roots digging into my back.  
The blood thumping in my head and my legs aching from running.  
The long white shirt that reached past my thighs.  
The mountain ridge glowing in the midday sun, echoing the howls of wolves and the scree of birds.  
Thunder and rain.  
Inhuman screeches and the crack of a whip.  
Howling, barking, ripping claws and gnashing teeth.  
Fire and pinecones.  
A great bear galloping towards us.  
Ponies and honeycakes.  
Stifling darkness and enchanted waters.  
Barrels and barges, fish and herbs, fire and water.  
The singing of metal.  
A great bell ringing in the dale.  
Crumbling walls and echoing drumbeats.  
Blood and snow.  _  
My eyes snapped open, searching desperately for something that represented any semblance of reality. My head was a swirling entropy of unfinished thoughts and snippets of memories that felt as if they were from somebody else’s mind. I needed to settle on something constant.  
I stared down at my hands even as they trembled from the blood coursing through my body. The tips of my fingers were slightly calloused, the skin slightly darkened from the sun. The skin of my palms felt slightly rougher, and I recognised the fading marks from reins and ropes. The fingers of my left hand were always calloused from my fiddle, but the fingers of my right hand were also marked by something. I frowned at them, cautiously delving back into the mesh of sights and sounds until I remembered – _arrows._  
Did I learn to shoot arrows?  
Did I fight with a bow? Like an elf?  
Did I use the bow in the battle?  
The sight of snow stained red with blood crashed through the forefront of my thoughts, making my stomach churn.  
_Whose blood? My blood?_  
I pulled the neck of my shirt down to inspect the scar on my chest once again. It was huge, round and ugly, sitting right at the bottom of my chest, beneath my breasts; a deep red circular mark with jagged edges. I tried to think back again to the last moment before the brown wizard had arrived in the woods.  
My mind went blank, not a single thought, image, sight, smell, sound, nothing. I huffed with frustration, readjusting my shirt before trying to focus. It was then that I noticed something else; another mark running from my shoulder down and round to my collarbone; a thin red line, but deep, glaring out at me from my pale skin. I tried moving the shoulder of my shirt back before giving up and ripping the thing off.  
The first thing I noticed were my ribs; sticking out horribly over my wasted stomach, as if I hadn’t eaten for weeks. The muscles in my arms and legs were soft from disuse and the bones were easily felt under my skin. I ran my fingers over my ribs and up again to my collar bone, also far too prominent to be healthy. It was then that I felt the slightly raised skin of the scar reclaiming my attention.  
The scar ran right down my shoulder, extending below my shirt line to my collarbone, and when I peered over the back of my shoulder I could see two more round marks, the same ugly red colour and my confusion deepened. _  
_ I tried to reach back with my hand to feel them, freezing as I felt something else. Rather than smooth skin, I could feel thick, knotted ridges running down my back from the top of my spine and between my shoulders. Confusion turned to horror as I followed them as far as I could, reaching back with my other hand to feel my lower back. I couldn’t tell how many there were, but they seemed to extend all the way down, covering the entire expanse of skin.  
My heart thudded faster and harder in my chest as I found more and more disfigured skin, my head starting to spin madly and echo with growls, screeches and loud cracks.  
“Miss Cairi?”  
An old, gruff voice shocked me out of my thoughts and I shrank back as the tall, pointed silhouette of the grey wizard appeared on the wall of the tent.  
“May I come in?” he called softly.  
I swallowed hard before answering: “Just a minute!”  
I hurriedly pulled my shirt on, trying to force my lungs to take as deep breaths as possible to calm down, before calling out: “Come in.”    
He stooped through the flap of the tent, removing his large hat as he entered and moving into the middle so he could stand properly.  
“Ah, that’s better,” he muttered before turning to me with a kind smile. “How are you feeling now?”  
“Not all that different,” I answered stiffly.  
“Well, perhaps the news I have brought can help,” Gandalf said. “I found my colleague, Radagast the Brown. I believe you spoke of seeing him before all of this.”  
“I don’t know his name. We just called him the Bird-Wizard.”  
“Yes, that sounds like him, may I invite him in?”  
He waited for me to nod before calling for him. “Radagast?”  
A few moments passed with no answer.  
“Radagast?” Gandalf called again, looking out of the tent with a groan. “Where has he gone? Radagast!”  
He reached his arm outside the tent and pulled in the most bizarre looking fellow I had ever seen. His robes were brown, moth-eaten and filthy, his hair and beard unwashed and lopsided and smeared down the side of his face was a worrying amount of bird waste.  
And my heart leapt at the sight. _  
_ “I’m so sorry Gandalf!” he gasped, stumbling into the tent. “I was just talking to the most interesting little thrush outside, got distracted, so sorry.”  
“Radagast,” Gandalf sighed. “This is the woman I told you about. She says she knows you. Do you remember her?”  
“Well I don’t often deal with anything two-legged but -” Radagast turned to face me and his face immediately dropped, his large blue eyes growing even larger.  
“Wait, I do remember you! You were with the dwarves and Gandalf in the Trollshaws -”  
“No, no,” Gandalf interrupted as I frowned at them both. “Before all that. About ten years ago now, do you remember meeting her?”  
“Ten years?” Radagast frowned. “Well now, let’s see…” he began to mutter to himself, occasionally letting out little chirps and whistles which, to my ever-growing surprise, appeared to be returned by his hat.  
Almost an entire minute passed in which he conversed in this way, until finally I couldn’t stand it anymore.  
“I was in the woods! By the Gladden Fields! You found me and you said I would be alright -”  
The images flooding my mind cut my words off abruptly.

 _“Just look at the flowers, little one,” the wizard said softly, pressing his hand to my forehead.  
“It hurts,” I gasped, trying to force my eyes open. The bluebells were out and I always liked them, but I couldn’t see.  
“It’ll be alright, just look at the flowers.”  
“Micah -” I moaned. Each word felt like a razor in my throat. “He’s hiding – he’s scared -”_  
_“I’ll find him, don’t you worry.”  
I looked up to find him smiling kindly down at me.  
“You’ll be safe now. Just sleep, and when you wake up he’ll be waiting for you.”  
Before I could respond, he passed a hand gently over my face and everything went black as I sank into a deep, refreshing slumber. _

The same kind face now gazed back at me, as if he could see everything I was thinking. His kind smile was back, but now his eyes, which I hadn’t noticed before, appeared saddened.  
“Yes, I remember,” he said in a low voice.  
“Did you find him?” I asked slowly, dreading the answer. “My brother? Did you find him?”

_ Kíli _

“What in Durin’s name do you think you’re doing?” He ran to his brother, ripping out of his arms the pile of weapons Fíli was attempting, unsuccessfully, to lift.  
“Just trying to make myself useful,” Fíli grumbled, though his chest heaved with effort.  
“Did your memory suffer from your knock to the head, or do you just like to forget that you’re still recovering?” Kíli snapped, putting the weapons on a nearby barrel.  
“How could I possibly forget when it’s all anyone ever seems to talk about with me? ‘How’s the head, Fíli?’ ‘Still hurting Fíli?’ ‘Why don’t you go and lie down, Fíli?’”  
“Can you blame them? Head injuries are nothing to be scoffed at, Fee!”  
“I know that. But I’m fine! And I need to do something around here or I’ll go insane.”  
“Why don’t you find Dwalin? He can give you something to do that won’t make you collapse. Or you can go and help Bombur with the food?”  
“Since when were you the enlightenment of responsibility?” Fíli gave his brother an irritated look.  
“Since my brother almost died before my eyes, twice!” Kíli growled and Fíli’s face softened slightly.  
A few moments of thick silence followed before Fíli finally sighed.  
“I’ll go find Dwalin,” he said softly. “Would you mind delivering those weapons to the arms tents?”  
“Gladly,” Kíli nodded and picked the weapons up again. He turned to watch his brother walk off, looking for any signs that he was off-balance or tired, but Fíli walked with the strength and pride of a king, even with his simple, light chainmail and the heavily stitched scar on his head.  
With a sad sigh, Kíli went to find the arms tent.

Leaving the weapons in the hands of Dáin’s arms master, Kíli left the tent to search for Dwalin. Like Fíli he needed more jobs to do, anything to keep his mind off Vana.  
_Cairi,_ he reminded himself stonily. _She’s Cairi now._  
“My lord, Kíli?” An irritatingly familiar voice caught his attention and Kíli turned to see the last person he wanted to lay eyes on striding towards him.  
“King Bard,” he acknowledged. The bargeman-turned-king of Dale stood before him with worry etched over his tired face.  
“Two of the healers just informed me that Vana was awake. I wanted to see for myself, if you don’t object.”  
“I do,” he said before he could stop himself. The way that Bard frowned at him did nothing to ease the urge he felt to punch him. Instead, he cleared his throat and gritted his teeth, trying to pick his words carefully.  
“She…she’s awake but she’s not…she doesn’t remember the battle or the events leading up to it. She won’t recognise you, and I don’t want to upset her any more than she already is.”  
“She lost her memory?” Bard asked softly and Kíli fought the temptation to roll his eyes.  
“Yes, and she’s going to take some time to adjust so I think it would be best if you left her alone for now.”  
For a moment Bard looked as if he was going to argue, but then he nodded and took a step back from him.  
“As you wish,” he said cordially. “If there is any assistance I can offer her, I will be happy to help.”  
“Thank you,” Kíli said with a small nod, watching as Bard turned to walk back towards Dale.  
It was just then that a loud scream of despair echoed over the campsite, causing many in the vicinity to turn their heads towards the source – Vana’s tent.  
Instinct seemed to kick Kíli in the small of the back and he charged back towards her, weaving in and out of the tents before bursting in to find her collapsed on her knees, bent forward with the huge dry sobs arching out of her.  
“Vana!” he shouted her name without thinking and rushed to her side, placing his hands around her shoulders. “What is it? What’s happened?”    
For many long moments no sound came out of her, only silent sobs that seemed to rack through her entire body as the tears began to spill over. Soon her sobs became small whimpers, wherein he could decipher two words: “Mam!” “Da!”  
Kíli felt his stomach drop as he glanced up at Gandalf, who only looked on with a sombre expression. It was then that he noticed Radagast standing in the tent, watching the scene with an almost fearful expression. He opened his mouth to speak but no sound came out at first.  
“I – I’m so sorry,” he managed to stutter. “I w-was too late. The camp was decimated. There was n-nothing I could do.”  
“M-Micah?” she choked out, looking up at Radagast with wide eyes.  
“I couldn’t find him,” he told her, shaking his head almost desperately. “I looked all over the forest, I sent my birds to search but there was no sign of him. I’m so sorry.” He looked on with a pained expression as she began to sob all over again.  
Then, to Kíli’s shock, she tensed her shoulders, wrenching them out of his grip in a small but definitive movement which felt like a punch in his chest.  
“Dead,” she muttered. “They’re all dead!”  
Thinking of the right thing to do or say seemed an impossible to task as he sat there awkwardly, his fists clenched at his sides.  
“I’m – I’m sorry,” he managed to force out, feeling like an utter fool as he did.  
“I’m sorry for your loss.”  
Possibly the last voice he wanted to hear in the world came from the opening of the tent and Kíli turned to see Bard slowly coming towards them, his eyes fixed on Vana. He turned back to her and saw that she was slowly raising her head to look back at him, her face confused and clearly distressed.  
“Who are you?” she asked hoarsely.  
“My name is Bard,” he said, crouching down in front of her. “Bard of Laketown and now Dale.”  
“Do I know you as well?” her voice turned dark even as she sniffed and wiped her eyes.  
“We’ve met before yes,” Bard nodded with a small smile before his expression turned sombre again. “I just wanted you know I understand your loss. My wife died some years ago now, but I remember the pain very clearly.”  
Kíli looked between them, unable to believe his eyes and ears. Vana was looking at Bard as if she was beginning to recognise him, or at least something in him.    
“Um…Cairi?” he almost winced at the sound of her real name. She looked round at him but her blank expression completely wiped his mind clean of anything he could say. He stared at her stupidly for a moment until she sniffed and looked back to Bard again.  
“My parents,” she whispered. “And my little brother, they’ve been dead for ten years, and I never knew.”  
Tears seemed to glisten in Bard’s eyes at her speech and he slowly shook his head.  
“That’s unthinkable,” he said softly. “How old were you?”  
“Fourteen,” she mumbled, and Kíli blinked in surprise.  
“When was the last time you saw them?” Bard asked her.  
“The day our caravan was attacked,” she answered, her voice going flat as she recounted the tale. “We were camped in the Gladden Fields. They came so quickly, the orcs. We were taken completely by surprise. Mam told us to run so I grabbed Micah and ran into the woods to hide, but two of them spotted us and they chased us.” She paused to breathe, her expression going dark as she continued. “They were catching up with us, so I told Micah to run and hide while I distracted them. I kept running and…” she trailed off and Kíli’s blood ran cold.    
“I could hear them,” she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. “They were catching up and then I…I fell, I think…” She glanced down at her arms, holding them up in front of her as she peered at them.  
“You fell down a knoll, Radagast said gently. “It must have been a nasty one. I found you on the ground and healed you, and then I wanted to send you back into Rhosgobel to be treated properly.”  
“But I woke up in the Blue Mountains,” she frowned up at him. Radagast’s face then turned red as he looked sheepishly to the floor.  
“Well, the – the spell may not have worked exactly. My staff has been a bit dicky lately -”  
“The point is, Cairi,” Gandalf interrupted. “That you ended up in the Blue Mountains and were taken in by Thorin and his kin.”  
At this, she looked back at Kíli, who allowed himself to feel a small glimmer of hope at the glint of recognition in her eye.  
“Your uncle,” she said. “You’re a prince?”  
“Uh, well…” He cursed himself silently for his loss of speech. “Yes, technically.”  
“But…” she frowned slightly and for a moment Kíli could have sworn Vana was looking back at him, studying him with that curious gaze she got when she was thinking very hard. He gazed into her eyes, desperately trying to hold onto that moment until she shook her head slightly and turned away with two simple words: “Never mind.”  
Nobody spoke for many long moments; Kíli fought between looking at this woman who wore his love’s face and looking at his hands, willing them to stop trembling while she wrapped her arms around her knees and stared at the floor, her face going worryingly blank.  
“Cairi?” Bard finally said, still gazing at her in a way that made Kíli’s blood boil. “Can I get you anything?”  
She made no answer at first, except to slowly raise her gaze to his.  
“My parents are dead,” she finally stated. “My little brother is dead. He was probably all alone and terrified, waiting for me to come and find him. Except I couldn’t, because a so-called wizard -” she cast a snide glance at Radagast. “- couldn’t get a simple spell right. Unless you can go back in time and right that wrong, no you can’t get me anything. Now, if none of you mind, I want to be alone. I’ve got ten years of mourning to catch up on.”  
With that she lay back down on her bedding and pointedly rolled on her side, facing away from all of them.  
Kíli watched and listened with a pang in his chest that was becoming all too familiar to him. He should have been comforting her. She should have been telling him all this in privacy while he held her in his arms. She shouldn’t be learning of her family’s death and grieving all alone.  
_If this was Vana,_ he thought to himself. _That’s exactly what would be happening._  
He glanced up at Gandalf who gave a small nod as he and Radagast began to make their way out of the tent. Kíli was about to follow until Bard, all of a sudden, turned back to face her.  
“If there’s anything you need, Cairi, you need only ask. And you are welcome in Dale any time.”  
She gave no answer, no inclination that she had heard him, and finally Bard exited the tent.  
Kíli watched with a festering anger and when Bard was a safe distance from the tent he grabbed the bargeman’s arm and yanking him round to face him.  
“What do you think you’re doing!” he growled softly.  
“Excuse me?” Bard replied with a frown.  
“I don’t know what your game is,” Kíli snarled. “But you will stay away from her.”  
Bard regarded him curiously for a moment before deliberately wrenching his arm out of Kíli’s grip, his frown deepening into a scowl.  
“I have no game, my Lord. I care about my friend in there and I will offer her all the assistance that I can. Whether she accepts it or not is her decision, not yours.”  
“She’s not your _friend,_ she’s my One!” said Kíli, shoving Bard roughly so he stumbled back a few paces. “You think I don’t know what you’re doing? You think I’m going to stand by while you take advantage?”  
“‘Take advantage?’” Bard sneered. “What sort of man do you think I am?”  
“A Man,” Kíli answered pointedly and Bard’s expression contorted into a look of pure anger as he took a step towards Kíli.  
“Mind your words, Dwarf,” he hissed. “Do you think she would approve of your slander against her own kind?”  
“Just stay away from her!” Kíli spat back. “If you so much as think of coming near her again you’ll have to get past me.”  
“Kíli!” Gandalf’s sharp tone made him flinch in spite of himself. “That’s enough!”  
Appalled at being spoken to like a child, Kíli turned back to glare at Gandalf but the wizard was looking at Bard.  
“My lord, Bard, would you please inform the healers that she will need more herbs to help her sleep tonight.”    
Bard nodded stiffly and, with a final glare at Kíli, turned to go to the healers’ tents.  
“And you, Prince Kíli,” Gandalf addressed him haughtily, making Kíli clench his fists in frustration. “If you could kindly stop acting like a lout and start acting like a dwarf-lord, I think we might all finally get some peace. And while you’re at it, you should go and find Thorin.”  
The mention of his uncle’s name only made Kíli tense even more.  
“Vana needs me here,” he said through gritted teeth.    
“Cairi,” Gandalf corrected him with a sigh. “What Cairi needs is time to grieve and time to accustom herself to what’s happened to her.”  
“And I’m not to be a part of that?” Kíli growled. “I’m to be sent to my uncle like a child in disgrace?”  
“No,” the wizard sighed again, his anger fading into fatigue. “You’re to go and find your uncle because he’s been asking for you for days.”  
“I have nothing to say to him,” Kíli said darkly.  
“You should think of something. He seeks forgiveness, or at the very least reassurance that you will indeed speak to him again.”  
“I will never forgive him for what he did.”  
“That is your right,” said Gandalf. “But Thorin will never stop being your uncle. Holding onto a grudge will never satisfy your need to assign the blame for these events to someone.”  
“No,” Kíli shook his head forcefully. “I can’t speak to him now. I’m…I’m too angry.”  
Gandalf only grumbled in response before walking very pointedly away from him.    
Kíli glared after him as he went, before turning his gaze back towards Vana’s tent.  
Normally he would want nothing more than to be at her side, to find any possible way of comforting her. Now, however, now he looked at that tent with trepidation. He couldn’t stop picturing her face when she looked at him, as if he was a stranger she thought looked familiar. If she gave him that look again he feared he would break. Besides, she had made it perfectly clear she didn’t want him there.  
Clenching his fists he turned and stormed away, the wizard’s words echoing his head.  
_‘Stop acting like a lout,’ he says. Perhaps when the world goes back to normal. As for Thorin, he can go back into that accursed treasure chamber and rot for all I care._  
He didn’t know how long he had been walking, nor paying any attention to where he was going, until he finally stopped at the sight of his brother. He was sitting by one of the campfires with a handful of Iron Hills dwarves cleaning discarded weapons. Almost out of instinct, Kíli walked over and took a seat next him, picking up an axe and a cloth and beginning to polish it, pausing only to share a glance with his brother. Fíli looked at him for a moment, nodding in understanding before turning back to the sword in his hand. Kíli went back to polishing, relishing the opportunity to occupy his hands.  
“What happened?” Fíli finally asked. “Is it Vana?”  
“Cairi,” Kíli corrected him in a dark voice. “She’s Cairi now. And yes, it is.”  
“What happened?” Fíli repeated.  
“Gandalf found Radagast. It turns out he met her once before. He saved her from orcs and tried to send her to Rhosgobel, but he didn’t cast the spell properly, that’s how she ended up in the Ered Luin.”  
“Orcs?” Fíli frowned.  
“They attacked her camp, killed the rest of the travellers, including her parents.”  
“That’s terrible.”  
“That’s not all.” Kíli lowered the axe, finally looking round at his brother. “She had a younger brother. She told him to hide before the orcs found her, and Radagast couldn’t find him afterwards.”  
Fíli’s face paled at his words.  
“How is she?”  
“As you’d expect, grief-stricken, angry. This all happened ten years ago, Fee, but for her it feels like only yesterday.”  
“I can’t even imagine,” the older prince shook his head. “Who else knows about this?”  
“Bard,” Kíli spat. “He found out she was awake and was asking to see her when we heard her crying. She recognised him.”  
“She did?”  
“He came in and spoke to her, said he knew her, and she didn’t look at him with revulsion or fear. She just accepted it.  
“Oh, I see.” Fíli nodded sympathetically.  
“He even invited her to Dale, right in front of me, the galling bastard!” he hissed his final words as he dumped the axe on the ground in front of him.  
“Kíli,” Fíli said calmly. “He was just being courteous. You don’t need to be threatened by him.”  
“You’re right, why should I be?” Kíli replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “She doesn’t recognise me, doesn’t remember a thing about me, it’s a perfect opportunity for him. She’s probably better off with him anyway.”  
“You don’t mean that,” Fíli told him, and his composure and steady voice was really starting to irritate him.  
“Don’t I?” Kíli snapped. “She clearly is a lot more comfortable with him than she is with me.”  
“This is all new to her Kee. She’s confused and probably very overwhelmed. But she still loves you, that I do know.”  
“How? How do you know?”  
“Because something as strong as what you both share can’t just disappear like that. It’s impossible.”  
“Like the love between siblings?” Kíli shot back. “Or between parents and children? Because she forgot all of that last time.”  
Fíli had no answer to that, and Kíli could see him thinking carefully as he put the cleaned sword into one of the weapon-filled barrels in front of him.  
“You can’t just give up, Kíli,” he finally said. “Then you’ll definitely lose her.”  
His words were like a heavy chain around Kíli’s shoulders, and he wanted so badly to believe them, to be motivated by them to go and do whatever it took to get his One back. And yet all they seemed to do was seal in his mind the realisation that life as he knew it, with her, was over.  
“I can’t do it, Fee,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t watch her fade like this. I can’t see her looking at me with fear in her eyes, like she’s waiting for me to snap and hurt her. No, until she remembers more, until she’s more settled, I’ll keep my distance.”  
“Kíli no,” his brother protested, reaching out to grip his shoulder. “That’s the last thing you should do. Vana needs you now more than ever. Will you really abandon her in her darkest hour?”  
“Cairi,” he corrected him in a biting tone. “And she won’t be alone. She’s got Dwalin and Balin, Gandalf and Bard…” he trailed off with a dark look in his eye.  
“But _you_ made her a promise, or had you forgotten?”  
“Of course I haven’t,” he snapped. “I promised to make her happy. Having me around won’t make her happy.”  
“No, you promised to be her sword and shield, her hearth and home, to give her your heart and soul.”  
The words of his proposal, the age-old vows he had made, seemed to cut into Kíli’s heart as he shook his head fiercely.  
“Don’t you understand, Fíli? I can’t be that for her anymore, she doesn’t want me to be.”  
“You don’t know that. She isn’t herself right now -”  
“No, you’re wrong,” he cut him off with a snarl. “She _is_ herself. She’s Cairi again, who she was before. The only reason Vana ever existed was because a loopy, old wizard couldn’t even cast a spell properly. She was never supposed to come to us, she was never supposed to be a part of all this at all!”  
Throwing down the axe, Kíli picked up another and began to polish the blade with such fury in his eyes and in his movements that, thankfully, Fíli made no further comment. Instead, he cast another sad glance at his brother before picking up another sword.


	3. You Can Only Come to the Morning Through the Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vana begins her recovery, meanwhile the repairs to Erebor are underway.

_ Dwalin _

“Do you remember what happened next?” his brother asked her for the hundredth time. They must have been doing this for the best part of an hour now.   
“He took me into the healing house,” she said, her face creased in a frown. “I…the healer examined my head -”   
“Óin,” Dwalin interrupted without meaning to. Her head whipped up to face him and he wanted to kick himself at the confusion on her face. “His name is Óin, he came on the quest with us. He’s somewhere in the camp now in fact.”   
“Oh…” she gave a small nod, but no sign that she knew what he was talking about. He swallowed hard before speaking again.   
“I didn’t mean to interrupt yeh, please,” he nodded for her to go on and she looked away, her concentrated frown returning.   
“Then…um…” she closed her eyes briefly. “I…I think some dwarrowdams brought me some clothes, but they were far too big, and…and some food too. Just broth and bread.  Then…then you came in.” She looked at Balin, and then at him again. “And you too. You were speaking to Thorin.”   
“Aye, that’s right,” Dwalin smiled, relieved.   
“You didn’t look very happy,” she said, her face going blank. “Actually you looked as if you wanted me far away.”   
“Aye, well,” Dwalin cleared his throat. “I suppose I did at the time. But I saw sense not long after. It was Thorin who insisted that yeh stay at least until yeh recovered. We never thought yeh’d be staying more than a week.”   
“But it was ten years,” she murmured, her voice so soft that Dwalin barely heard her, and her face seemed to drain of light as she looked down at her lap. “I’m twenty-four now…”   
No one spoke for many long moments, and Dwalin looked pleadingly at his brother. Balin was always the one who knew what to say, he only ever knew how to throw a good punch. But even his brother seemed lost for words.   
“I know this is impossible for any of us to understand,” Balin eventually said to her. “But I hope you do understand that we only want to help you. You can trust us. You don’t have to right away, but you can.”   
She didn’t react at first, only stared even harder at her hands, until finally, when Dwalin thought his head would explode, she looked back up, not to Balin but to him.   
“Why did you take me in?” she asked, almost accusingly. “Dwarves are said to hate all other races. That’s why they’re so secretive. I can understand helping someone in need but I apparently lived with your people for a decade. Why?”   
Dwalin had to frown at that. Her tone was hard, as if she thought she already knew the answer, and he looked at his brother to help but he only nodded that Dwalin should answer. He tried to think hard about his words but they wouldn’t form in his head.   
“Well,” he said carefully. “It was actually Kíli who convinced us, or at least his mother. Yeh lived with them in the royal quarters at first, as their guest.”   
“Their ‘guest?’” she repeated the word in an icy tone and Dwalin finally understood her meaning.   
“Just as their guest,” he said quickly. “Thorin would never have allowed…that. Yeh had yer own room and, well it was just a matter o’ waitin’ until yer memories returned.”   
“But they never did.” It was a statement this time, though her expression had softened considerably. “And you let me stay with you all this time. A daughter of Man?”   
“In time the dwarves of Ered Luin grew to accept you,” Balin told her with a small smile. “Some took longer than others, but given that you had the good opinion of our king, there weren’t many arguments to be made against treating you as nothing less than an honoured guest.”   
She looked at both of them now, her eyes flitting between them, and Dwalin was relieved to see a small smile spread over her face.   
“Well then,” she said. “I suppose I should thank you.”   
Balin returned her smile with a glistening eye, and Dwalin managed to force one onto his face, but inside he felt the inexplicable need to smash something. He had learned long ago to express his emotions through physical means, a trait somewhat required for a warrior, and after the best part of two centuries it had become habit, instinct even.   
“It’s nothing at all, lassie,” Balin said to her softly. “Would you like to go on, or are have you had enough?”   
She took pause before answering, her frown returning. “I think I can go on for a little longer.”   
“Alright,” Balin nodded. “Just as you please. We’ll stop when you say the word. Now where were we?”   
She nodded before answering. “I was in the healing houses. You two and Thorin spoke to me but I couldn’t give you any answers. Then you left and I stayed in the healing houses. I think…I remember trying to sleep but I couldn’t. And I remember trying to think but…it was as if my head was empty…I didn’t even know my name and…the other patients were looking at me…then someone else came…”   
She trailed off, her frown deepening slightly and Dwalin waited with bated breath for her to continue.   
“Kíli,” she finally said, looking back to them. “Kíli came to see me, didn’t he?”   
“Well we weren’t there, lass,” Balin said gently. “These are your memories.”   
“Well…” she trailed off, her eyes widening slightly. “I think he…um…I don’t know…” she suddenly shifted, bringing her knees up to her chin and winding her arms tightly around them.   
Dwalin felt his instincts stand on edge; she obviously felt afraid or unsafe and his gut told him to right that wrong, only he had no idea how.   
“What is it, lass?” Balin asked in a soft voice.   
“It’s…” she shook her head. “It’s hard to explain. It’s as if there’s two different people inside my head and they’re pulling me in two different directions. One’s telling me one thing and the other something different.” Her knuckles were white against her knees and Dwalin thought he saw her arms start to tremble. He and his brother exchanged a worried glance before Balin spoke.    
“Try to relax. Take some deep breaths,” he said softly, but it seemed to do no good.  
“Everything in my life that I was sure of is lost,” she continued in a small voice. “And then there’s all these memories that I don’t recognise, they feel more like vivid dreams but you’re all telling me they’re real and how could they not be and… It’s like I have these two separate identities that don’t match and you’re trying to make me choose and  I don’t – I don’t know what to think – I -!”   
Dwalin tensed as tears began to run down her face.   
“It’s alright lass,” he began to say, reaching for her hand but she flinched – a tiny, instinctive movement that hit him hard. He drew back, looking to his brother for help but Balin only gave a small, defeated shake of his head before turning back to her.   
“We don’t mean to upset you,” he said, his voice suddenly thick. “I apologise. Perhaps we should stop for today.”   
She only nodded, rubbing her eyes fiercely.   
“I’m sorry,” she gasped. “I’m trying, I really am -”   
“We know,” Dwalin cut her off, feeling his heart break at the sight of her. “We know, lass, it’s alright.”   
“Don’t push yourself too hard,” Balin said, getting to his feet. Dwalin did the same as his brother kept speaking. “We’ll leave you now to rest and return a little later to see how you are.”   
She nodded, her body still curled up defensively, and Dwalin couldn’t bring himself to give her more than a nod as they exited the tent.   
He walked silently beside his brother until they were far enough away not to be heard.   
“Well, there’s been some progress,” Balin said, trying to bring some light to his voice. “It’s slow, but it’s there.”   
“‘Progress,’” Dwalin repeated darkly. “Progress in what exactly? Confusin’ her even more? Upsettin’ her even more?”   
“Dwalin,” his brother sighed. “The fact that she’s even alive is a miracle in itself.”   
“Yeh don’t think I know that? I was the one on those ice fields with them! While Thorin and Fíli were bleedin’ out and Kíli was beggin’ her not to leave him! I was the one holdin’ her hand as the very life left her!”   
“While I was down here, witnessing the so-called victory of the battle,” Balin added, but while his voice echoed Dwalin’s own bitter tone his eyes were glistening with sadness. The gruff warrior sighed heavily and shook his head.   
“That’s not what I meant,” he said, feeling his entire body sag with the heavy weight of exhaustion. “I just…I can’t watch her battle herself like this. I can help her fight goblins and orcs but…what am I supposed to do for her now?”   
“Be patient,” Balin said simply. “Give her what she needs when she needs it, whether it’s space to think or help to remember specific details. We just need to let her go at her own pace.”   
Even though he could see the truth in them, his brother’s words only made him tense with anger again.   
“I’m not sure I can do that Balin,” he admitted, feeling utterly despicable as he did.   
Balin regarded him for a moment before nodding.   
“I understand,” he said quietly. “Then find something else to occupy your thoughts, and when you’re ready you can come back and try again.”   
Dwalin regarded his brother for a few moments; normally he thought of Thorin as the one who understood him the best. In his youth he and Thorin rarely spent a day apart, and even as they grew older they were always able to read the other better than any book. And given that he and his brother were so different, Dwalin often forgot just how perceptive Balin could be when it came to him. He would never patronise him, nor would he lie to save his feelings, and so when Balin told him he understood, Dwalin knew he meant it.   
He nodded in thanks to his older brother, before going to Thorin’s tent – Mahal willing, his king would have orders for him.

_ Kíli _

Kíli could not have been more relieved when Thorin ordered any willing and able dwarves to start clearing the debris from Erebor’s main halls and setting them up for main repairs. The forges would also need to be cleared and repaired as soon as possible. Finding space for the recovering wounded in the mountain was the top priority to protect them from the winter outside.   
Reinforcements from the Iron Hills would hopefully be arriving in the next few weeks and quarters for them were required as well. In the end, most of the able-bodied dwarves found themselves occupied in the mountain.   
A chamber just off the entrance hall was appointed as the temporary healing house, being still almost whole and having no stairs needed to reach it, and it was here that Kíli busied himself clearing away the rubble from the entrance. He was shifting some of the larger pieces of rock back into the middle of the entrance hall where they could hopefully be used in the repairs and it was on his seventh or eighth trip that he met Fíli coming in from the campsite.   
Nodding in greeting, he dropped the rock onto the pile he had formed in the hall and turned to head back down the corridor to the healing house. He didn’t get far before Fíli caught up to him.   
“Thorin sent me to check on progress here,” he said.   
“Sent you to check on me, you mean?” Kíli asked rhetorically.   
“Maybe that as well,” Fíli admitted. “He’s worried about you Kíli.”   
“Has he convinced anyone else to sacrifice themselves for me?”   
“That’s not fair.”   
Kíli made no response. Having reached the doorway to the healing houses, he bent down to pick up another piece of rock. It was heavy enough that he had to heave it onto his shoulder and as he turned around he could see Fíli doing the same thing.   
“You’re still injured,” he protested. “You shouldn’t be carrying that.”   
“Don’t be ridiculous, I’m not a cripple,” Fíli bit back before turning back towards the pile.

They continued like this for a while, before finally Fíli spoke again, apparently tired of waiting for Kíli to speak.   
“I was thinking of visiting Vana later.”   
Kíli felt his blood run cold at his words and he paused as he was picking up another rock. When Fíli didn’t speak again, he continued without a word.   
“According to Balin she’s starting to remember things more clearly. She remembers coming to the Blue Mountains.”   
Kíli gritted his teeth as he kept walking, silently praying for his brother to shut up.   
“I thought you might come with me?” Fíli finally said. “She’s much calmer now that she’s starting to accept what’s happened, and -”   
“No thank you,” Kíli cut him off gruffly.   
“Kíli,” Fíli sighed. “You can’t avoid her forever. She needs you right now. She needs us all to help her.”   
“She doesn’t need me there. I only confuse her more.”   
“Maybe before, but it might be different now.”   
“I doubt it.”   
“Kíli -”   
“Fíli!” he snapped. “Just stop.” He dumped the rock onto the pile in the hall before marching back towards the healing house, trying to ignore the few stares he was attracting. He suppressed a groan when Fíli caught up to him again.   
“I’m not going to let you do this, Kíli,” he said in a low voice. “You can’t just leave her like this.”   
“Please stop talking about this.”   
“No, not until you stop all of this avoidance and see sense.”   
Kíli clamped his mouth shut as he reached the door, bending down to pick up another rock.   
“You know, nadadith,” Fíli said haughtily, standing with his arms crossed over his chest. “You’re many things, but I never thought you were a coward.”   
Kíli froze at that word, gripping the rock so hard he felt as if he could snap it in half. Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself even more.    
“You don’t understand, Fee,” he said through clenched teeth.   
“Then help me to.”   
Dropping the rock unceremoniously onto the floor, Kíli finally turned to face his brother.   
“It’s as if that spell that brought her back implanted a stranger’s soul into her body. She doesn’t know me, not as she used to. She looks at me as if I’m a stranger with a familiar face. She knows who I am, she knows we have a past, but she doesn’t know that she was the one who made my world stop, that she was going to be my wife, or that I loved her more than life.”   
“‘Loved’ already is it?” Fíli scoffed. “You’re just going to pretend she died after everything she did to save you?”   
“And what have I brought her back to!” shouted Kíli. “A life of grief and pain! Of never knowing what’s real! At least in death she would have been with her family. She’s a ghost now, and it’s all my fault.”   
Fíli shook his head slightly, looking at his brother with a deep sadness.   
“You don’t honestly believe that?” he asked, his voice suddenly very quiet.   
“It’s the truth isn’t it? She’s not Vana anymore. And Cairi – she’s lost everything. All she has is a dead family to mourn and memories she doesn’t understand. What kind of life is that for someone?”   
“It won’t be forever, Kíli.” Fíli tried to lay a hand on his arm but Kíli pulled it away roughly.   
“No,” he said darkly. “One day she’ll meet a Man who’ll fall in love with her, and who she’ll love back, who’ll give her a good and decent future so she can live out her years with happiness. Meanwhile, I have plenty of repairs to be getting on with in this accursed mountain.”   
With that, Kíli shut his mouth and his mind, focusing only on the rocks that needed moving and stacking. He could see his brother watching him, his face awash with worry, but he couldn’t allow himself to care right now. Not about Fíli or about anything. He just needed to shift these rocks.

_ Fíli _

The day after his gruelling conversation with his brother, Fíli visited her. He spent the entire night thinking long and hard about what he could say. He couldn’t talk about the quest, or their time in the Blue Mountains. She was having a hard enough time remembering them herself. He didn’t think he could ask about her family, not if she was mourning, unless she wanted to talk about them.   
He didn’t even know if she would recognise him.   
He had to steel himself as he walked into the tent, finding her looking up at him with wide eyes, reddened with recently shed tears. He immediately regretted his decision until she said, “You’re one of the company.”   
“Yes,” he said with a small smile. “Fíli, at your service.” He gave a low bow and when he stood again he thought he saw the flicker of a smile ghost over her face.    
“You’re his brother?” she asked. “You don’t look alike.”   
“Neither do Balin and Dwalin,” he said with a smirk.   
“Is that common amongst dwarves?” she raised an eyebrow.   
“Well, Ori, Dori and Nori all look very different, but there’s certain rumours about their parentage. And then there’s Bofur and Bombur, they look very different as well. And Óin and Glóin too, though that’s mostly due to Óin having gone grey. But Thorin and my mother look very similar, and they tell me my uncle Frerin looked much like them too.”   
She listened to him silently, and as he mentioned the names he could see faint glimmers in her eye, and her eyebrows contracted slightly as her mind went to work.   
“Kíli looks like them,” he continued. “He has our mother’s dark hair and stern countenance, though you’d never realise it with time he spends smiling. The only thing different is his eyes. He has our father’s eyes.”   
“And you look like him?”   
“I do. With my very un-princely gold hair,” he grinned.   
She managed a faint smile back before her gaze cast downwards.   
“My brother looks – looked like me. But his hair was lighter, and his eyes were slightly slanted like my mother. We had the same eye colour.”   
“I was sorry to hear about him,” he said solemnly. “I can only imagine the pain you must be in. I came close to losing Kíli in the battle and I don’t think I’ve ever been more scared in my life.”   
“It feels like I’ve lost one of my arms,” she said with a small frown. “Or legs, or maybe a kidney or…or something. I don’t know, it just feels like something’s missing…”   
He didn’t say anything, only watching her face carefully. He daren’t touch her, or make any kind of movement at all, not until she did.   
“I was supposed to protect him,” she said, her voice suddenly thick and her lip starting to quiver. “Mam told me to take him and I -” she broke, tears streaming down her face as she gulped for air, concealing her face in her hands.   
He dug his fingernails into his palm, desperately trying to keep his own emotions at bay. He understood this all too well, knowing his own brother had come to harm because he hadn’t prevented it, and had been rendered helpless to witness it all. She felt she had failed in her most important duty, oh yes, Fíli understood that all too well.   
“Tell me about them,” he said, finally. “Your family.”   
She sniffed and wiped a hand roughly across her nose before looking up at him. Tears still filled her eyes but she was breathing more steadily now. She studied him for a few moments, as if trying to look for any hidden traps, before she finally spoke.   
“I was born on the road, somewhere in the South-West of Gondor. They didn’t know exactly where, they were held up in the hills there for two weeks, living in caves because of heavy summer storms. Some of the women travelling with us were healers and they had to deliver me in front of the entire caravan almost.”   
“Your birthday’s in the summer then?”   
“Yes, the 26th of July.”   
Fíli nodded and she continued.    
“I grew up travelling along those roads. My mother used to sing and tell stories to the children in the villages, sometimes fortunes to those who’d ask as well. My father took care of the horses mostly, and repaired the wagons and such. Sometimes he’d play while my mother sang, but mostly he preferred to listen.   
“When Micah was born we were staying in Minas Tirith. We’d been travelling for the best part of three years at that point, without a break, and my father was worried for Mam. My birth was so difficult, he didn’t want to take any chances. He managed to find work and a place for us to stay in the city. We stayed there until Micah was four before we moved on again.”   
“What did you do?” he asked her, though he thought he might already know the answer. “In the caravan, I mean?”   
“I followed my father around like a puppy mostly,” she smiled slightly. “I liked watching him work, especially with the horses. I must have annoyed him at first, but eventually he taught me about them, how to train them and ride them and look after them. When I was a bit older my mother let me sing and dance as well.”   
He found himself smiling at an image of a younger version of Vana singing happily while her father worked, shoeing a horse perhaps, or lying under a wagon trying to fix the wheel.   
“Were your parents born travellers too?”   
“Not my father, he was born in Rohan, but he left when he married my mother.” Her face darkened suddenly. “Watching us perform and then leave is one thing, but marrying a traveller is another completely. Nobody ever wants us around for long, particularly ‘half-breeds.’”   
Fíli felt his mind snap to attention at that, and he found himself repeating it, unsure he’d heard her correctly.   
“Half-breeds?”   
“Aye,” she said. “My mother’s mother was an Elf.”

“An Elf?” Thorin repeated, scornfully. It seemed to Fíli that it must be completely ingrained in his uncle’s bones to bristle with anger at the mere mention of them.   
“Yes, uncle, that’s what she said,” he told him calmly before looking to Gandalf, whom he’d sought out as soon as he’d left Vana’s – or Cairi’s – tent. “But doesn’t it make sense? Why Tauriel’s magic worked on her?”   
“It would explain it,” Gandalf nodded. “And a good deal of other things too.”   
“Like what?” Thorin frowned harder.   
“Her ability to heal quickly from her wounds for one thing, particularly without the aid of magic. Her senses are more acute than most humans from what I’ve noticed. And then there’s her way with creatures and her singing, dancing, all these little things.”   
“Did you ever suspect this?” Fíli asked him.   
“I considered it a possibility, but there was no way of my ever knowing. Elves can sense the presence of others of their kind much more keenly than I can.”   
“But they never said anything in Mirkwood.”   
“She was overcome with poison from the spiders and likely from the forest as well. It’s possible that even Thranduil missed it. I understand not much attention was paid to her?”   
“No it was not,” Fíli said darkly.   
“Well now we know,” Thorin said and much to Fíli’s surprise he suddenly chuckled. “Your mother is very perceptive.”   
“What do you mean?”   
“I believe she once said that if it weren’t for the lack of points on her ears, she could well be an Elf.”


	4. Absence, Hear Thou My Protestation Against Thy Strength

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A surprise orc attack changes things. Irreversibly? Perhaps...

_ Kíli  _

The shouts and horns roused Kíli from his extremely short sleep, but it was the horribly familiar growls that made him leap to his feet and grab his sword from where it lay at his side. He didn’t need the accompanying yells from his kin outside to tell him what was happening.   
_Orcs!_  
He reached out to haul his brother to his feet, still very aware that Fíli’s head was full of stitches. Nevertheless, Fíli didn’t stumble or stagger as he took up his sword and charged out of the tent, Kíli close at his side.   
Outside it was chaos. The sky was darkening, the sun almost completely gone from the sky and they had only the light of the fires between the tents to guide them, along with the shouts and metallic clangs of battle. The orcs were everywhere, disorganised and erratic as they scrambled around the campsite, flattening tents, upending barrels and pots and attacking any dwarf in sight. One charged at Kíli only to be met with a sword in the gut before he sliced its head off. Next to him, Fíli had already gutted one orc and buried his sword in another’s neck.   
It was almost too easy to slay any orc that came up against them – they were leaderless and driven mad – the real challenge was trying to rally themselves from in amongst the tents. There was no way for them to congregate and take down the orcs as a single force. It was then that he heard another roar from beyond the camp, coming from the city. Turning towards the sound, he could see a throng of Men and Elves charging towards the camp, their swords and shields held high in the dim glow of the fires. At the front he spotted Thranduil leading the charge, followed closely by Bard who bore a fierce expression as he opened his mouth in a loud war cry.   
Kíli stayed at his brother’s side, watching as closely as he could for any signs of failing strength but Fíli held fast, even as his head began to pound and spin, taking down any orcs in his way with very little difficulty.   
Barely two hours had passed before the orcs began to deplete, many turning tail and running back towards the south-east. Yet others remained, driven mad with bloodlust, determined to kill as many as possible before the end. Fíli and Kíli weaved in and out of the tents, searching for any more of the creatures before, but what they found made them both stop dead.   
Almost a half-mile away, at the edge of the camp, Vana was fighting, furiously and savagely, with Ringil. Her hair was loose and she wore no armour, only her shirt and trousers, and Kíli noticed, to his horror, that she wasn’t even wearing shoes. Her feet were completely bare, even as she bounded over the freezing ground and kicked at her foes.   
Even as Kíli began to run towards her, she buried Ringil deep into the chest of her final orc and wrenched it free, staring at the bodies littered around her feet, breathing heavily, her face the very definition of rage.   
The battle was over as quickly as it had begun - a surprise bloody end to the day. As far as Kíli could see the losses to them were few – Dwarves, Men and Elves alike. The orcs who hadn’t fled lay dead all about the camp and it wasn’t long before the bodies were being removed and the fires from the previous orc mounds relit.   
His hand firmly locked onto his brother’s arm, in case his head injury should overcome him, Kíli still made his way towards Vana, who hadn’t yet moved from her spot where her fallen foes lay. She was glancing between the bodies at her feet and her sword, dripping with black blood, her expression a mixture of confusion and fear.   
Kíli shared a look with his brother as they went, trying to calm his adrenaline-filled mind enough to figure out how to approach her. Even that was enough to exhaust him mentally; he could no longer just speak to her as Vana, his best friend. Now he had to be cautious, approach her as Cairi, a stranger.   
Before he could even get a chance to try, another approached her instead, and the scene that unfolded made his heart turn cold. Bard came to her slowly, his sword held loosely at his side, and reached a hand out towards her encouragingly. Kíli could hear him speaking but couldn’t decipher the words exactly. His voice was calm as he spoke, and whatever he said made Vana’s eyes widen, fear completely taking over her expression as she stared in horror at her sword. With trembling hands, she dropped it to the ground and began to take shaky steps towards the bargeman. Kíli could see blood pouring from a cut on the side of her foot but any instinct to go to her aid was crushed as Bard gently took hold of her arm and began to walk her back towards the healers’ tents.   
It was only when Fíli called his name for a third time that he was pulled out of the ever-deepening pit his mind had become at the sight of Bard’s hands on his One. He turned to see his brother’s face, turned slightly green even with his determined expression.   
“We should find the others,” he said simply. Unable to find the strength to speak, Kíli nodded, though he took a final glance back towards Vana. She had gone from his sight by then, her sword discarded on the ground, the soft blue glow of the blade faltering. Then another dwarf appeared beside it, kneeling down and picking it up to examine it with admiration.   
Kíli stormed towards him, reaching down and snatching the hilt savagely from his hands.    
“That doesn’t belong to you!”   
“Doesn’t belong to you either!” the dwarf growled, leaping to his feet. “I found it!”   
“It belongs to a member of Thorin Oakenshield’s company,” Kíli hissed. “So I, his nephew, am taking it back!”   
He never pulled his rank over others if he could help it, but his need to protect that sword was so strong he barely even thought about his words. He was ready to use it if need be, but the dwarf backed off, grumbling and giving a bow.   
“Apologies, my lord.”   
Gripping Ringil tightly, he sheathed his own sword and turned back to his brother, who was staggering slightly as he made his way towards him. Fíli glanced down at Ringil with a sad expression before nodding to his brother.   
“Let’s go, Kíli.”   
Kíli nodded and followed his brother back into the camp, feeling as though his limbs weighed as much as the slabs of rock that littered the ground by the decimated mountain gate.  

The damage to the camp was not as bad as first thought; nothing that couldn’t be repaired. There were no fatalities among the Dwarves, Men or Elves, only cuts and bruises and one fairly substantial head wound. Overall, the orcs had proved more a nuisance than anything else. The Men and Elves departed back to Dale with their injured and Kíli caught sight of Tauriel in amongst the Elvish ranks. He called her name and jogged over to her when she turned.   
“My lord Kíli,” she greeted him with a small bow.  
“’My lord?’” he couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. “You saved my life twice, I think we can stick to Kíli.”   
“Very well,” she gave a small smile. “Are you well, Kíli?”   
“I’m still walking,” he shrugged. “And you?”   
“I am well. Are you looking for Vana?”   
He felt his gut clench a little at the sound of her name.   
“I saw her before with Bard, I assume she’s back in her tent by now.”   
“I do not believe so,” Tauriel said, glancing back towards the city. “I saw her leaving with King Bard for Dale only a few minutes ago.”   
At once, Kíli’s vision darkened, and he could have sworn the sides of his eyes were tinged with red.   
“What did you say?”

_ Thorin _

His side was burning, but when he pressed his hand to it no blood appeared on his shirt. Good, his stitches hadn’t ripped open. But, Mahal, did it feel like his spleen was trying to tear itself free of his body.   
“Thorin?”   
His head whipped round at the familiar voice and he smiled widely as Bilbo came sprinting into view, his little sword still clutched at his side.   
“Are you alright, Bilbo?”   
“I’m fine,” he said, sheathing his sword with a frown. “Are you in pain? Is it the wound?” He immediately started forward to check.   
“No, I’m fine,” he protested and backed away a little. “I checked, it’s not reopened.”   
“You’ll forgive me if I don’t believe you right away Thorin,” Bilbo said with a raised eyebrow and this time Thorin didn’t stop him as he came forward and lifted his shirt to inspect the wound.   
“Satisfied?” he asked with a smirk.   
“Just about,” Bilbo sighed. “Sit down and rest while I fetch some water.”   
With a heavy sigh, Thorin obliged, if only to avoid the nagging, though his eyes began to search the crowd for his nephews.   
He obediently gulped down the cup of water Bilbo brought him, until a series of shouts reached his ears. He was almost immediately on his feet, recognising the voice instantly as his youngest nephew. Ignoring Bilbo’s protests he walked as fast as he could towards the noise around a series of trampled tents. To his complete surprise, Kíli was yelling up at Gandalf, even as the wizard towered over him, his huge eyebrows turned downwards in an equally huge frown.   
“…allow him to take her!”   
“Miss Cairi is not a prisoner here, nor is she a witless wonder! She is allowed to come and go as she pleases and she decided she would rather stay in the city. King Bard will take good care of her.”  
“Oh I bet he will,” Kíli growled. “What right does that bargeman possibly have to take advantage like that?”   
“Master Kíli, you forget yourself!” Gandalf snapped. “I will not be yelled at like this for not forcing a woman to stay in a camp recently attacked by orcs against her will! Now please calm down, you’re embarrassing yourself!”   
Thorin felt a pang in his chest at Kíli’s expression; at his entire appearance, come to think of it. His face was pale, his eyes sunk in dark shadows, and he was thinner. He thought what Dis would say if she could see him, what she would do to Thorin for allowing this to happen. The guilt washed over him anew for the thousandth time since he had woken.   
“Thorin?”   
He turned slightly to see his cousin approaching, his fiery hair and beard windswept and covered in dried blood.   
“Dáin,” he greeted him. “Any fatalities?”   
“None on our side,” Dáin answered before nodding in Kíli’s direction. “I couldn’t help overhearin’, the lad’s still pinin’ for the human?”   
“Vana,” Thorin replied, making his resentment for his cousin’s tone clear.  “And he’s not pining. He just found out she’s left for Dale with the rest of the Men.”   
“Ah, well, it’s probably for the best.”   
“Why do you say that?” Thorin asked, watching Kíli’s face fall from its angry scowl into emptiness.   
“This dalliance with a human could never last,” Dáin said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “It’s unheard of, a dwarf and a human. We’re no’ made to mix wi’ other folk cousin. He’ll meet a young dwarrowdam before long and be happy enough. As a matter o’ fact there’s a couple in the Iron Hills court I would be happy to introduce him to once Erebor’s up and runnin’ again.”   
Thorin managed to stop himself looking at his cousin with contempt, instead focusing on Kíli who was still standing far in front of him, now staring after the throng of Men making their way into the city. Despite the cloud of madness that had overcome him in the Mountain, Thorin remembered every word he had spoken, every insult he had thrown at his company, and at Vana. The terrible things he had said to Kíli in the armoury resurfaced in his mind at Dáin’s words, and he found himself clenching his fists hard in an effort to remain calm.   
“It’s too soon to speak of such things, cousin,” he said, his voice rasping slightly from his effort to keep quiet. “We all have many wounds to be healed before we can plan that far ahead.”   
“Yeh know I mean no offence Thorin,” Dáin said, laying a gloved hand on his shoulder. “I only want what’s best for our people.”   
“As do I,” Thorin looked round at him, his deep blue stare meeting his cousin’s pale. “But what’s best for my nephew is my concern.”   
Dáin regarded him for a moment, his expression deliberately blank, before nodding.   
“Of course, my King.” He gave a small bow and left him to it.   
Releasing a slow breath, Thorin turned back to gaze at his nephew once again. Kíli looked utterly defeated as he stared at the city, and Thorin felt the urge to go to him, coupled in a horrendous battle with the urge to walk away. He knew Kíli was still angry with him, but he couldn’t abandon him now.   
Steeling himself, he strode towards his nephew determinedly. Kíli seemed to catch sight of him and immediately turned away, but Thorin forced his legs to keep moving.   
“Kíli,” he called softly, yet authoritatively, harnessing his trained kingly voice. Kíli knew it well enough by this point that he instinctively stopped at the sound of it, and turned to face Thorin with his scowl returning rapidly.   
“What?” he spat. Thorin chose to ignore his impudence.   
“I just wanted to see that you’re alright,” he said calmly. Apparently this was exactly the wrong thing to do because Kíli’s face crumpled into an expression of such rage that Thorin was suddenly reminded of Dis when she was about to give birth.   
“Alright?” Kíli hissed, his voice dangerously quiet at first, steadily getting louder and louder until he was yelling. “Alright? You have some nerve, uncle. The woman I was going to marry is gone. Not only does she not remember me, or love me, she is literally gone. Back to her own with Bard, just as _you_ said she should -!” Thorin flinched slightly at this comment. “ – and you have the nerve to ask if I’m alright! NO I AM NOT ALRIGHT! AND IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT!”   
Then he advanced on Thorin, who had let all of his words slide off him to the best of his ability, and shoved him roughly in the chest.   
“IT’S YOUR FAULT! DAMN YOU, THORIN, IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT!” He beat at Thorin’s chest and arms with his fists and a surprising amount of strength given how thin he looked. Thorin let the first hits land, ignoring the sharp pains in his side, knowing he deserved it, but after the fourth hit he grabbed Kíli’s arms roughly and held on, even as Kíli continued trying to punch him.   
“I know,” he said as calmly as he could. “I know you blame me, and that’s fine. I deserve it. I deserve a lot more than a few punches.”   
Kíli’s punching desisted and then his hands were gripping Thorin’s arms so tightly he could feel the blood circulation being cut off. Still he clung on to his nephew.   
“I know it should have been me! It should have been me who died in the battle! I would have gladly done so to spare you this pain Kíli!”   
Kíli’s grip slackened slightly and Thorin pulled him close, locking their foreheads together in a desperate wrestle. He could feel the eyes of the camp on him but blocked them out.   
“Kíli, you must know that everything I did, I did for you and your brother. You two are more important to me than anyone, or anything, including that Mountain. I love you both so much I don’t even have to think about what I would choose, your lives or mine. I’m so sorry I led you to such perils, Kee.”   
Kíli had stopped struggling altogether by now, only hanging onto Thorin like a lifeline, his eyes squeezed shut, his shoulders slumped as if under a great weight. He shook his head a few times before taking a deep, shaky breath.   
“It…it hurts so much, uncle…” he rasped, his voice thick with the effort of speaking.   
“I know, Kíli, I know,” Thorin moved a hand to the back of his neck, gripping his nephew as if to let his own strength flow into him. “I’m so sorry. I should never have told Vana anything, should never have made her promise such things. I’m so sorry.”   
The word was becoming meaningless, and yet he felt he could never say it enough. Kíli shook his head once again before leaning back from Thorin and releasing his arms. The dark brown of his eyes seemed diluted to almost a dark gold colour as they swam with unshed tears.    
“Vana would have jumped in front of that crossbow no matter what any of us said,” he said flatly. “I know that. And I know why you did what you did.  I’m sorry for what I said to you uncle.”   
Thorin nodded. “I forgive you. But you don’t forgive me?”   
“No,” Kíli said bluntly, his gaze falling to his feet. “Not yet anyway. I need…I need time to get used to...to all this…”   
He trailed off, his gaze still cast downwards and Thorin swallowed hard before replying.   
“Of course. What can I do to help?”   
At this, Kíli looked back up towards the Mountain.   
“Tell me what needs doing in there.”


	5. Two Sides

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cairi moves to Dale with Bard - but has she made the right decision?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can only apologise for the huge delay. It's been totally chaotic over here. The main reason is that these part of the story gave me huge problems. I still need to do last-minute editing but I'll try and get as many of them up as possible tonight and tomorrow night before I head into the hills (literally).

_ Cairi _

It was a long way up to the bastion in Dale, a city built entirely of hills, naturally. I bit my lip hard and clenched my fists in an attempt to distract myself from the pain in my foot. It had been roughly bandaged at the camp, but I had insisted I would be fine to walk when Bard asked. I didn’t want to appear any sort of a burden to the folk of Dale, knowing how small-townsfolk like these felt about people like me. On the other hand, we were only on the second level of the city and I was trying desperately not to limp.   
“Cairi,” Bard’s voice came from beside me. “You’re limping.”   
“No I’m not!” I answered automatically. Bard only sighed.   
“Yes you are. Let me carry you, you don’t look too heavy.”   
“No, I really don’t need -” I was cut off with a gasp as I trod on a sharp stone and tripped. Bard’s hand immediately caught hold of my arm before I could fall but I could already feel the warm rush of blood soaking into the bandage.   
“Right, no more of this,” Bard grunted as he looped his arms around me and scooped me up. I held on to his coat, mortified at the looks of the Men around me. They were much bigger than the dwarves – obviously – and even though I felt more of an equal standing with my own kind, I found I didn’t feel any easier for it. Bard either didn’t notice or ignored their looks, giving polite orders to various people even with me in his arms. Before long we reached the bastion and he carried me up the steps into the Great Hall.   
“Is that you, Sire?” a round-faced lady appeared from around the corner. In fact, everything about her was round, down to the tight black curls spilling out from the cap tucked messily on top of her head. At the sight of me she stopped and stared rather pointedly at us, even as Bard spoke to her.   
“Prue, are my children in their rooms?”   
“Yes Sire, managed to force ‘em in once the fight was over. Was it bad Sire?”   
“Not nearly as it could have been,” Bard said. “But as you can see, Cairi here is injured.”   
“I have a cut on my foot,” I amended, stubbornly.   
“She’ll need her foot cleaned and re-bandaged,” he said, all but ignoring me. “The healer said it didn’t need stitches. Could you fetch some clean cloth and warm water while I take Cairi to her chamber.”   
“’Er chamber?” Prue frowned.   
“Aye, she’ll be staying with us for the foreseeable future. Please don’t mention anything to the children. If they ask, tell them I’ll be in to speak to them soon.”   
“As you say Sire,” Prue said, fixing me with another curious look before scurrying off to fetch the supplies.   
“You really don’t need to make this much fuss,” I protested quietly. “I can bandage my own foot, and I don’t mind just sleeping in front of the fire.”   
“Nonsense,” Bard said, readjusting his grip on me. “You’re a guest of mine, and you’ve been sleeping on the ground for the last few weeks. The least I can do is give you a bed.”   
He was silent as he carried me up a narrow set of stairs and into a corridor. The sun was almost completely gone now, leaving only a thin blue strip in its wake, and Bard relied on the light of only three torches on the walls that were still intact. About halfway down the corridor he stopped outside a thick oak door.   
“Would you mind turning the handle?” he asked me politely.   
I obliged and he nudged the door open with his knee, carrying me inside.

The room was dark, the window letting in none of the outside light. Only the dull flickering of the torch from the hall allowed me to see the contents of the room. A grand-looking four-poster bed stood against the wall beside the door, separated only by a round bedside table. The bed was stripped, with only a single pillow left behind. Opposite was the window, through which I could see the distant light of camp fires and between them were the vague shape of tents. I was overlooking the Dwarven camp, which meant that behind it lay the Mountain. The thought made me swallow uneasily. On the right hand side of the room was a small fireplace, its small stone archway still intact, though it was empty of any wood.   
Bard gently sat me on the bed, moving into the shadows in the corner of the room and bringing out a small, wooden footstool.   
“Sigrid and Tilda have been cleaning out the rooms,” he explained as he placed my injured foot gently on the foot stool. “Hold on.” He got quickly to his feet and opened the drawer of the end table, pulling out a few thin candles and small stands. Taking them outside, he used the torches to light them, placing them in their stand and setting them about the room, one on the bedside table, and the other two on top of the fireplace. With a little more light, I could see a small cupboard on the left-hand side of the bed.   
“Sigrid and Tilda,” I repeated the names out loud, trying to remember faces. “They’re your children?”   
A flicker of sadness crossed Bard’s face as he answered.   
“Yes, my daughters. And I have a son, Bain. Do you remember them at all?”   
I frowned slightly and shook my head. “I remember the names,” I tried to excuse my ignorance but he only shook his head.   
“Don’t worry, it will come back to you. But my children will be glad to see you when they know you’re here. If you want me to I can ask them to leave you be for now?”   
“No,” I said determinedly. “I should see them, it might help with…things…” I trailed off at the sight of my foot, namely the bandage around it which was now stained a horrendous dark red colour.   
“You fought well,” Bard said softly. “Where did you learn to fight like that?”   
“I…I have no idea…” I whispered, feeling my arms start to shake as I gripped the edge of the bed. “I don’t know what came over me. I heard the orcs and the sword was right there. I just…” I jumped slightly as Bard knelt before me in a swift movement.   
“You don’t have to be afraid,” he said, peering up at me with a soft gaze. “You’re safe up here.”   
“I’m not afraid,” I said with a frown. “I wasn’t afraid. I was just…angry…”  
Before Bard could respond Prue suddenly appeared in the door, carrying the supplies he had asked for.   
“’Ere you are Sire,” she said, placing them on the ground beside him. “Your elder daugh’er was askin’ for you. I told ‘er you’d some business with the guards before you could come in, but you’d speak to ‘er then.”   
“Thank you, Prue,” Bard smiled kindly. “You can go to bed now if you wish. I can take care of Cairi.”   
“Of course Sire,” Prue nodded with a clumsy curtsey before smiling at us both. “G’night Sire, ma’am.”   
I tried to smile back as she left, but was sure it was more of a grimace.   
_‘Ma’am?’ That certainly wouldn’t last long. ‘You!’ or ‘Girl!’ were the kindest names I remembered._  
Prue left us alone and the room suddenly felt much smaller as I looked back to Bard.   
“May I?” he asked, nodding to my bandaged foot and I nodded, shy all of a sudden as he began to unwrap the soiled bandage. “May I ask why you wore no shoes in a battle?”   
“Oh, um,” I stammered. “I didn’t think to. In the caravan we rarely wore shoes. We couldn’t always afford them so we only wore the ones we had when we were in the towns. And the children were growing so it wasn’t really worth the money to buy them shoes they would outgrow in a few months.”   
“Your feet are freezing though,” he frowned. “Aren’t you uncomfortable?”   
“I’m used to it I suppose,” I shrugged.   
He gave a small nod as he removed the bandage. He then reached down beside him to the small basin of warm water Prue had brought, and I could see some herbs floating in it.   
“What are those?”   
“They help keep the wound clean,” he said, soaking one of the strips of cloth in the water. “It’ll sting a little, I’m afraid.”   
“That’s fine,” I said, before mumbling. “I should be used to that by now.”   
“What was that?”   
I looked up to find him frowning at me.   
“Nothing,” I shook my head. He didn’t look convinced but didn’t push the subject. I hissed slightly when he first pressed the warm cloth against the cut but it was bearable. He gently cleaned the skin around the wound before pressing it back against the cut, letting the herbs seep into the blood and I bit my lip against the stinging.   
Finally he placed the cloth back in the water and reached for another strip, gently drying my foot.   
“You know you’re welcome to stay here as long as you want?” he said softly.   
“Thank you,” I replied. “But aren’t you worried what your people will think?”   
“Think about what, exactly?”   
“About you taking in a traveller? Small-townsfolk have never been the kindest towards people like me.”   
“Trust me, I don’t think they’ll give it a second thought. We’re still burying our dead.”   
I regarded him sadly for a moment. “I’m sorry. I do sometimes forget…” The irony of my own words was like a glaring beacon in the forefront of my mind, but if Bard noticed he didn’t comment. He only continued bandaging my foot.   
“You’ve plenty to occupy your thoughts, I understand that.” He tied the final strip and finally released my foot. “How does that feel?”   
“Better,” I answered, giving my foot an experimental twitch. “Thank you.”   
“You should keep off it as much as possible for the next few days,” he said. “Give the skin some time to heal.”   
“Oh don’t say that!” I moaned. “I’ve been confined to that tent for days now.”   
“Well you’re welcome to move from here into other parts of the bastion, as long as you don’t put too much strain on yourself. Though not all of it’s safe at the moment, I can show you tomorrow if you like?”   
“No, that’s okay. You’d best look after your people first.”   
He regarded me for a moment, his eyes flickering sadly in the candlelight, and when he spoke again his voice was soft.   
“I’ll look after you as well Cairi. I meant it when I said you’re a guest here, and you can stay as long as you want. If you wish to return to the dwarven camp at any time then I won’t stop you. If you wish to find your own quarters in the city I won’t stop that either. It’s entirely your choice.”   
I knew he meant well, but his words filled me with unease. Rules and regulations were the order of the day in these cities. We weren’t allowed to enter unless they allowed it, usually having to camp on the outskirts. Often they wouldn’t let us into their shops or their inns. Parents would forbid us from coming near their children. Some thought we were simply unclean and needed to bathe thoroughly before we could have the honour of stepping through their doors. Others thought we were sneak thieves and frauds. Others thought our men would steal their daughters away and our women would bewitch their children to defy them. Any freedoms we had on the road were severely limited or cut out entirely when we crossed into their land. This idea that I could simply go where and when I wanted felt more like a test than a kindness.   
Bard must have seen my expression as he waited for my answer, realising then that he wouldn’t receive one. He got to his feet and gathered up the soiled cloths and the basin.   
“I’ll let you sleep now,” he said with a smile. “Good night, Cairi.”   
I could only nod as he left the room, closing the door behind him. It was old and stiff with neglect and so it creaked and groaned terribly as he pulled it shut. The silence that followed was only more potent because of it. I swallowed hard as I looked around the room one more time. A lifetime of sleeping in the open air at night meant that I never had a fear of the dark, nor of the strange noises the night brings. Even in the dwarven camp there was always signs of life outside my tent; guards on watch or sleepless soldiers wondering around trying to chase away their nightmares. It was the silence that I hated, the feeling that I was the only person for miles. I tried to lie back on the bed, watching the flicker of the candlelight against the stone walls and the ancient hanging curtains on the bed. Failing that I sat up again, looking out of the window down to the camp. The fires were still going, and they would go all night.   
I blew out the first two candles and gathered up the third, along with the blankets on the bed, moving them to the chair by the window. It was still soft to sit in so I blew out the final candle and wrapped the blankets around me as I sat and looked out over the camp, letting the moving shadows lull me into a light sleep.

The next morning I was gradually woken by the sun creeping up from below the Eastern landscape. The blankets had fallen from my shoulders during the night and the room was freezing, particularly seeing as I’d slept by the window. I wrapped them tightly around me and rubbed my eyes to adjust to the light.   
The mountain was vast and proud in the sunrise, the snow on top shining as the sun hit it, while the dark rock below glowed an almost dark purple colour. The camp below was already alive and I could see the small stocky figures of the dwarves milling between the tents. I briefly wondered if any of them might be Kíli, or Fíli or Balin, before the great noise of the door startled me out of my seat. I stumbled onto my sore foot and swore loudly as a stabbing pain shot through it, turning to see the shocked face of Prue.   
“Oh, beg pardon Miss,” she said hurriedly, her face flushing. “I clean forgot this was your room.”   
I highly doubted that, but I shook my head kindly. “It’s fine, you just startled me.”   
“Mind you don’t go speakin’ like that in front o’ the girls. King Bard wouldn’t thank you for it.”   
“I’ll remember,” I said thickly, wrapping the blanket around me again, trying desperately to remember the polite words. “I wonder if there’s a place I could wash?”   
Prue nodded as she plumped up the unused pillows on the bed. “Oh aye, there’s a small wash room in all these rooms, but there won’t be no water in them. The girls ‘ave been using the large one at the end of the corridor ‘ere. I’ve just lit the fire to ‘eat the water so it should be ready soon.”   
“Thank you,” I said, forcing myself to smile before I went to walk past her. She looked up and moved slightly in front of me so I had to stop.   
“Mind you don’t take too long,” she said. “And don’t use too much o’ the wa’er neither. The children will need to use it too.”   
“Of course,” I said, resisting the urge to shove past her as I sidled out of the room.

Having used a minimal amount of warm water to wash, I returned to the room to find that Prue had moved on, thankfully. I placed the neatly folded blankets – a feat which I attempted three times – at the foot of the bed and went to the drawers to search through them. They were still filled with old clothes, riddled with dust, and I searched through them curiously. This had obviously been a girl’s room, given the skirts and dresses. I took out one of them and unfolded it, holding it up against me. The dress was far too long and the sleeves ended inches after my own hands. Perhaps a young woman, rather than a girl.   
In a small drawer at the end I found a cracked hand mirror and a series of combs and ribbons. Running a hand over my own hair, which I noticed was still in a braid, I thought back to the ribbons I used to get for my birthdays as a child. Mam would buy me a colourful ribbon for my hair every year until I had a whole collection of them in my little bag in the caravan. She used to use her own comb and soft brush for my hair as well as hers, and sometimes she would style it for me early in the mornings before we were due to perform.   
The braid I had in it now must have been there for some time, and when I undid the leather tie that held it together it seemed loathe to part from it. My hair was dirty and matted from neglect and it took me many frustrating minutes to undo it so it hung loose around my face. My normally straight hair was curled from being in a braid so long, and knotted beyond belief. I didn’t dare use one of the combs, instead threading my fingers through it to try and undo some of these knots. They were tough and gritty and they held fast, making me swear angrily when I ripped through one of them and my finger came away with a handful of dead hair.   
Then came a knock on the door, making me jump. I turned to see a tall girl with dark blonde hair bundled neatly up on the back of her head. She wore a dark blue, common looking dress with a dirty grey apron tied around her waist but her whole face lit up when she smiled at me.   
“Cairi, are you all right?”   
I blinked stupidly at her first, realising immediately who she was though I couldn’t remember seeing her before.   
“Sigrid?”   
“Aye,” she nodded. “Can I help you with anything?”   
“Oh, um, no thank you. I was just trying to…” I gestured uselessly at my hair.   
“Why don’t you wash it? It’ll be much easier.”   
“Prue said I should try to save water -”   
“Nonsense, there’s whole wells of water all over the city, and when the snow melts there’ll be even more. We can spare a bucket to wash your hair.”   
She beckoned me over and I felt no choice but to follow. It felt unnatural for a girl like this – a princess, my mind clarified – to be so helpful, but Sigrid seemed to emanate kindness and care from her very being as she herded me back to the wash room. The fire was just going out, so she picked up a small log from the pile beside it and stoked it back to life before picking up the metal pot and filling it once more with water.   
“Prue’s a nice lady,” she told me. “She lived only a few houses along from us when we lived in Laketown.”   
I sensed, rather than saw the sadness that came over her when she mentioned the town. I had never been there myself, not that I could remember anyway.   
“She looked after us after Mam died, when Da had to work, and she found us a wetnurse for Tilda. Then when we were older she taught me how to cook and sew. I managed to take over a lot more of the work, but she still visited us at least three times a week. Her own children are all grown see. Or, they were… both her sons died in the battle…”   
There was a sullen silence and I began to feel a little guilty for my initial thoughts of the tubby, stern-faced woman.    
“She seems to really care about you,” was all I could think to say. Sigrid looked over at me and smiled again.   
“She’ll grow to like you too. They all will. Lake-town never saw many outsiders, so it’s natural that they’ll be a bit suspicious at first. But they’re good people, for the most part.”   
“I’m sure,” I nodded and smiled obligingly but still wasn’t convinced.   
Sigrid helped me to wash my hair, fetching her own comb to get the knots out. The whole process took the best part of an hour, my hair was so long, and in the end she offered to cut it, to let it grow back properly. With a lot of trepidation I agreed and she brought back a small, straight knife.   
“You’ve definitely done this before?” I asked.   
“A few times,” she nodded. “I cut Tilda’s hair because she doesn’t always take care of it properly.”   
By the time she was finished my hair was much shorter, only reaching just past my shoulders, and I felt oddly vulnerable without it.   
“It’s long enough that you can still braid it,” she said with a kind smile.   
“I don’t normally braid my hair,” I admitted.   
“Oh, so it was just for travelling?”   
I peered up at her in confusion and she suddenly flushed.   
“Sorry, I didn’t think. It’s just you had it in a braid the last time I saw you, in Lake-town.”   
“Lake-town?” I frowned. “So I have been there…”  
“Yes. I’m sorry, it must be so difficult to not remember.” She looked at me worriedly, as if afraid I would snap or cry.   
“I remember some things,” I told her. “Nothing of any use. Just flashes, mostly of sounds or smells.”   
“Have you tried writing them down?” she asked and I must have looked confused. “I did that after Mam died. I started to forget little details about her, things like her favourite dress and the tune she used to hum when she was cooking, so I thought if I wrote down all the things I remembered, then I could keep them safe, and it would free my mind up for other things. And if I ever wanted to remember her I could just look at these.”   
She reached into the pocket of her dress and pulled out a small bundle of parchments, tied neatly together with a hair ribbon. A lot of the parchment was old and crumpled, and she held it so gently, like a baby bird.   
“It’s the only thing I took from the house when the dragon came,” she said in a small voice.   
My head suddenly thundered with the screams of the dying, the feel of heat on my face and flickering, angry light of flames in the water.   
_“You’re not leaving! You promised me!”_   
I couldn’t help the sharp intake of breath I took. That was the clearest the flashes had ever been.   
“Cairi?”   
I looked back to see Sigrid watching me carefully, her eyes full of worry.   
“I..um, I think that’s a good idea,” I told her. “Do you know where I could get some parchment?”

The two pieces of parchment stared up at me like two children waiting for a bedtime story. Swallowing hard, I picked up the quill, dipped it in the inkwell and wrote very carefully at the top of the first: _Cairi_ , and the second: _Vana.  
_ There.   
I continued staring down at the parchments, trying to search the scattered entropy of my mind for any morsel of sensible thought. Under Cairi I simply wrote: _Micah._ Then, slowly but surely, my thoughts seemed to arrange themselves into some sort of order.   
_Leading him through into the woods as the screams and curses of the camp grew louder and more desperate. Tugging him along with me through the trees, even more urgently when I realised we were being followed. His bright green eyes wide with fear as I told him to hide. Running in the opposite direction. Need to lead them away. Hard hands grabbing my arms. Vicious laughter and stabbing pain and burning, burning, burning, the loud cracking sound of a whip -  
_ I paused, holding the quill awkwardly above the paper. That wasn’t right, the orcs didn’t catch me, nor did they have whips. Slowly, I moved it over to the second parchment. _  
_ Various other sounds drifted through my mind; _the crackling of thousands of flames over splashing water, the slithering clatter of coins, screams and prayers, inhuman screeches, the loud, deep cracking of thunder_.   
Unable to make much sense of it, I didn’t write anything, not until another sound surfaced. A desperate, pleading voice calling to me:   
_‘You’re not leaving! You promised me!’_  
I copied the words down, not that they made any sense after, and continued to think.

A loud knock at the door startled me, causing me to leave a large blot of ink over the parchment. Cursing silently I tried to soak it up with a spare piece of parchment as the door opened slowly.   
“Va – Cairi?” a small voice came from the doorway.   
I turned to see a small, nervous face, surrounded by familiar shade of dark-blonde hair and bearing a pair of large eyes.   
“Tilda?” I tested and the little girl’s face lit up like a little sun emerging from behind a cloud.   
“You remembered my name!” she almost squealed, bounding into the room and up to me before I could even stand up. I had half risen when she leaped up to wrap her arms around my neck.   
“Oh!” I let out a surprised noise at the contact but gently hugged her back. She didn’t seem to notice my discomfort and promptly took my hand as she stepped back.   
“Sig said she cut your hair. You look very pretty with it shorter, but I think it was nice in a braid too.”   
“Oh, um…thank you?”   
“You’re welcome,” she grinned. “Dinner’s ready! Da’s set it up in the sitting room next door. Prue managed to find some salted fish!”   
Unable to think of an excuse not to, I let her lead me out of my room and through another large, wooden door. Bard, Sigrid, a tall, dark-haired boy who I assumed to be Bain were gathered around a low-set wooden table that I noticed only had three legs. Its missing leg had been replaced with neatly stacked books that looked well past their readable stage. Prue was there too – there was no missing that questioning glare – and another man I didn’t recognise with dark grey, shoulder length hair and a kind face. All three men immediately stood at my entrance.   
“Tilda!” Bard groaned. “I told you to ask if she was hungry, not drag her in here.”   
“It’s alright,” I said quietly as Tilda’s face fell. “I am a little hungry, but I don’t want to disturb -”   
“You’re not disturbing!” Sigrid said brightly, sitting up from her chair. “You can sit here, next to Da.” She was gone from the table and returned with an extra chair that she placed next to Prue at the end of the table. I let Tilda lead me over to the vacated chair and slowly sat down as she went to her own seat opposite me.   
“Here you are V-Cairi,” the boy handed me a plate with a kind smile.   
“Thanks…Bain?” I looked at him apologetically but he only grinned and nodded.   
“That’s me,” he said. “I never got to thank you for returning my clothes.”   
“I’m sorry?” I frowned. Out of the corner of my eye I thought I saw Bard give a small shake of his head. Bain’s expression flickered before he spoke.   
“Never mind. Some potatoes?” He passed me a bowl full of them and I took it with a nod.   
“Cairi,” Bard caught my attention before nodding to the man with the grey hair. “This is Percy, he’s in charge of the watches and the bowmen.”   
“Pleasure to meet you Miss,” Percy smiled warmly and I managed to smile back.   
“And you, sir.”   
“‘Sir?’” Percy repeated with a small chuckle. “Can’t remember the last time I was addressed as such. Plain Percy is fine. Some fish?” He reached for my plate and I handed it over so he could place a few pieces on it. The food was plain, but hot and very filling. I managed a single helping but had to refuse another.   
“Sigrid tells me you’ve been trying to write down your memories?” Bard said softly.   
With a mouthful of fish and potatoes I could only nod before swallowing heavily. “Yes, I have. It seems to be working…slowly.”   
“I think it’s a good idea,” he said with a small smile. “But don’t work yourself too hard.”   
“Speaking of work,” I replied. “I wanted to offer my services here. I’d hate to think I was imposing on all of you.”   
“You’re not imposing, Cairi,” Bard frowned. “I invited you. You’re a guest here.”   
“I know, and I’m grateful,” I said quickly. “But I need to do something to pay you back. I think it’ll be good for me to work.”   
“There’s your foot to consider too,” he reminded me.   
“My foot’s fine. I can always stop if it starts to hurt.”   
“Well…” he considered for a moment. “I suppose Prue might have a few things -”   
“I don’t need ‘er ‘elp sir,” Prue said immediately, apparently surprising even herself with her abruptness. “Tha’ is, I don’t ‘ave any jobs that I can’t do myself.”   
“She can help us, Da,” Sigrid offered before speaking directly to me. “Tilda and I are starting on the main halls downstairs tomorrow. The rooms are quite big and there’s a fair few of them so an extra pair of hands would be a big help.”   
“That sounds perfect,” I smiled and turned to Bard. He sighed deeply and nodded.   
“All right, just don’t overdo it. Sigrid,” he turned to his eldest daughter. “I’m counting on you to keep her from hurting herself.”   
“Da,” Sigrid raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “She’s a big girl. I think she can look after herself.”   
“Sigrid.”   
“I’ll make sure she’s not running or lifting heavy objects,” she assured him before turning to me. “Cairi, do you promise not to run or lift anything heavy?”   
“I promise,” I nodded.   
“See?” Sigrid looked pointedly at her father before returning to her dinner.

I excused myself soon after and returned to my room, hoping to return to my writing, but when I sat back at the desk my mind was deceptively blank.   
I tried rereading what I’d written so far to no avail and with a sigh I sat back in my chair and put my hands in my pockets.   
My fingers brushed against something hard and smooth and I frowned as I wrapped my fingers around it and took it out. It was a stone; that much was obvious, but it was smoothly polished into a perfect oval shape, and though it was black it glowed blue where the fading evening light hit it. I turned it over and saw there were runes clearly etched into the flat of the stone. The runes I thought I recognised, but the language was unfamiliar. I couldn’t think what it might mean, nor could I think where I’d got it. Was it given to me? The runes, could they be Dwarvish? If so, was I supposed to have it?   
I had no idea. The only thing I did know was that this was something important. I could tell by the heaviness I felt in my hand when I placed it on the desk and returned to writing, my mind clicking into motion once more.  
When night fell I was exhausted, despite the fact I’d been sitting at a desk for most of the day. _Cairi_ now filled two pieces of parchment and I was almost halfway down the third. _Vana_ barely filled half of the first. Still, I felt a definite weight off of my shoulders, and when I went to bed I found myself falling asleep almost instantly.  


	6. The Closing Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meanwhile, back in Erebor, Thorin and company are attempting to move on, none more so than Kili.

_ Kíli _

His days became a repetitive cycle; he woke up when the sun was starting to rise, forced some tasteless breakfast down his throat and made his way to the Mountain. There he kept himself busy shifting rocks, rebuilding walls and pillars, and examining the passageways with a small team of Iron Hills dwarves to test their stability. He would stop only to drink and catch his breath, never long enough for his mind to stray from the job at hand, and when he returned to the camp at the end of the day, more often than not it was dark.   
His brother and uncle normally came to the Mountain in the afternoons to check on the clearance and to plan where to put everyone. Even with Dáin’s severe losses there were still hundreds of dwarves to house, and when the reinforcements arrived there would be even more. Those who were still recovering from injuries and couldn’t shift heavy rock were put to work cleaning out the housing quarters on the ground level and readying them for living in. Every day more and more dwarves came to help and a week after the attack on the camp, they were preparing to move into the Mountain permanently. The winter had hardened, bringing little snow and frost but also a sheer and bitter cold that even the dwarves’ thick skin couldn’t keep out. Balin, Dori and Ori had spent two days clearing out the royal quarters on the southern side of the mountain and Kíli suddenly found himself moving into a large room with an ancient stone bed and fireplace, complete with deep red curtains overhanging the window and the bed, his own washroom, two sets of drawers and a heavy stone chest at the foot of his bed.   
It should have been an honour, a blessing, a relief at the very least, to be given such quarters. Thorin said they had been his brother, Frerin’s, when he was a dwarfling, the bedchamber of a prince. Yet all Kíli could see was stone and more stone, so alike to, and yet so unlike his bedchamber back home, Ered Luin.   
_No,_ he thought to himself. _This is my home now._   
Nevertheless he stayed away from those chambers as much as possible.

Fíli was next door to him, and he took every opportunity to harass his younger brother, or at least that’s how Kíli saw it. He couldn’t seem to understand why Kíli was spending most his time down in the passageways helping with the repairs while Fíli was left with Thorin and Balin, finally putting all his training into practice. To Kíli the answer was obvious; there was plenty of work to be done, so he was doing it. The rest of the company, except for Nori who was still using a crutch to walk, were busy too. Ori worked in the library most of the time, looking through old scrolls that had escaped fire and general degradation and transcribing those that were beyond repair as best he could. Dwalin was focused mostly on the armoury while Bofur and Bifur were in the forges. Dori and Bombur found the kitchens mostly intact and set about rationing the remaining food stocks that were, miraculously, also still intact. Meanwhile Óin and Glóin helped ration the remaining wood for fires, as well as the medical supplies. Even Bilbo was finding plenty of work to keep him occupied, mostly in the kitchens, though occasionally he could be found in the library with Ori.   
Yet, Fíli didn’t bother them.

Two weeks after the attack, after Vana – _no, Cairi!_ – had left for Dale, Fíli tracked him down in one of the passageways leading into the forges.   
“I brought you some lunch,” Fíli said, holding out a small section of freshly baked bread. “Bombur’s finally got some of the ovens working. He’s been baking all morning.”   
After weeks of surviving on boiled oats and whatever small game they could scavenge in the valley, the warm bread was like finally stepping into the Halls of Mandos and Kíli couldn’t help but groan at the taste.   
“Tell him he must never stop.”   
“You’ll have to tell him yourself, I’m heading down to Dale soon.”   
Kíli didn’t dare ask why, but then again he didn’t have to.   
“Thorin’s asked me to see Bard about finalising the details of his treasure share. I’m to take a small chest as an offer of good faith.”   
“Good,” Kíli grunted. “It’s about time we started getting rid of that gold.   
“I know,” Fíli nodded. “Thorin won’t go near it. He won’t even stray too near the treasure chamber. I think he’s scared of it, worried he might relapse.”   
“He should be,” Kíli sneered. “How long did it take the gold to suck him in before? Five minutes?”   
“Kíli, that’s not fair,” Fíli frowned at him. “The dragon had been brooding over it for a long time, the sickness was much stronger than it is now. And in case you’ve forgotten he beat it in the end.”   
Kíli looked at the floor, the bread suddenly tasting like chalk in his mouth.   
“I know that. And I don’t think I’m likely to forget anything for a long time.”   
There was a long pause while he finished his bread, where Fíli seemed to shift uncomfortably. He wasn’t used to this; he and his brother spoke about everything. There was never any cause for awkwardness between them, and yet all he wanted was to get out of there and go back to work.   
“I might see Vana when I’m there,” Fíli finally said.   
There it was. It was always there, whenever he spoke with Fíli. Vana (or Cairi) always came up at some point, and was always followed by the same thing.   
“Perhaps you’d like to come with me? You could see how she’s doing?”   
“I don’t think either of them would want me to intrude,” Kíli grunted.   
“‘Either of them?’”   
“Her and Bard,” he spat and turned to leave.   
“Why not?” Fíli asked, moving to walk beside him. “How do you know she doesn’t want to see you?”   
“If she wanted to see me she would have come by now,” Kíli said sharply, walking faster but Fíli easily kept pace with him.   
“Maybe she thinks she can’t,” he said pointedly. “Maybe she thinks you don’t want her to come.”   
Kíli only scoffed and continued walking. “You’ll be late for Bard.”

Thorin was just as bad, now that Kíli was speaking to him again. He almost wished he hadn’t made peace with his uncle, in that he seemed to have sacrificed his own peace in the process.   
“Kíli, I understand it’s hard for you to see her like this,” he said to him one evening and Kíli shook his head hard.   
“No you don’t,” he hissed. “How could you possibly understand what I’m feeling? You’ve never been in love, you’ve don’t have a One. If you did, your One was your purpose in going home, and you have that now!”   
Thorin looked at him sadly, before sighing. “You’re right, I don’t know exactly. But I do know that if you stay away from her, sooner or later you will fade away. And I don’t want to see that happen.” He laid a hand on Kíli’s shoulder. “You used to be so full of life, Kee. You used to laugh and run and play, even when you came of age nobody could make you sit still. Now you…you do none of these things. You sleep little, you eat barely enough and you work until you’re about to fall over. That’s not the life I wanted for you.”   
Kíli moved his gaze to the floor during this speech, trying to control his thoughts from straying to that forbidden topic. How many times could he explain it before they would just leave him alone?   
“I…I can’t stand it, uncle. Seeing her face on a stranger. And the stranger she sees in me. I only make her uncomfortable, or scared, and I promised myself I would live only to make her happy. If my staying away from her helps her to move on then that’s what I’ll do. In the meantime I have this mountain to occupy my thoughts.”   
“But what of your plans?” Thorin pressed. “You told me in Rivendell that you wanted to build your future here with her.”   
“That was when she was still Vana,” Kíli said sharply and turned away. “But it seems she died after all.”   
He couldn’t see, but he almost heard Thorin shaking his head.   
“You’re a fool for doing this Kíli,” he said softly, but loud enough that his nephew could hear him.

The worst incident was when Thranduil sent four Elven messengers from the Woodland realm with a delivery; the dwarves’ weapons and packs that had been confiscated from them in Mirkwood. Ori was overjoyed to get his slingshot and his journal back, and almost immediately went to the library to start writing. The others were happy to see their old weapons again, especially Bifur with his spear and Fíli with all of his daggers. Kíli, on the other hand, was presented with Beorn’s black bows and immediately excused himself to return to the forges. When he returned to his room that night to find his sword on his bed, he felt oddly comforted, as if an old friend had returned to him. It made him slightly happier for about a minute, before the pangs returned, along with the heavy weight in his chest and in the end he threw the sword in the chest and curled up beneath his blankets like a dwarfling to block the entire world out.

The following day Ori tracked him down, several sheets of parchment clutched in his hands.   
“Good morning Kíli,” he said nervously.   
“Morning Ori,” Kíli muttered, only half glancing at him.   
“How are you doing?”   
Before Kíli could even breathe an irritated sigh at the banal question, Ori was shaking his head.   
“Never mind,” he said. “That was a stupid question. Look, I thought you might like these?” He held out the sheets of parchment and Kíli took them. He had to bite his tongue hard to stop himself from grabbing Ori by the collar and slamming him into the wall. In his hands were drawings of Vana, of her dancing, sitting on the ridges with the mountains behind her, of the two of them sitting together in Rivendell.   
“Why in Durin’s name would I want these?” he asked, shoving them roughly into Ori’s hands.   
“I thought perhaps you could show them to Vana,” Ori said nervously, smoothing the pictures out carefully. “To see if it helps her remember?”   
“Her name is Cairi!” Kíli growled. “And it won’t help her. Leave me be Ori.”   
There was a silence as he went back to work where he thought Ori might have crept away, but to his ever-growing annoyance Ori’s voice piped up again behind him.   
“Isn’t it worth a try? You could even take my journal from the quest. You never know, it might trigger something -”   
“Fíli put you up to this didn’t he?” Kíli demanded, his voice low and dark enough to make Ori take a step back from him.   
“What? No, I just thought -”   
“No! You didn’t think!” he growled, storming towards the scribe until he was pressed against the stone wall and shaking like a leaf. “If you were thinking, you would’ve known she wants nothing more to do with us. She’s in Dale with the Men now, what does that tell you? For the love of Mahal, you’re supposed to be the smart one!”   
Ori swallowed hard, his eyes wide with fear as Kíli stepped back and turned back to his work.   
“Just go, Ori.”   
“Kíli,” he breathed. “We all want Vana to come back -”   
“Damn it Ori!” he growled, unable to keep his temper any longer. “MUST YOU RUB MY NOSE IN IT!” He yelled so loudly that Ori stumbled backwards and almost fell over before turning around and running back down the corner, Kíli glaring after him as he went. With a final huff, he went back to work. He could only imagine the scolding he would get from Thorin for that, not to mention Dori.

_ Thorin _

Thorin considered himself a fairly typical example of a dwarf. He was stubborn – that was an understatement – he was loyal to his family and his people and he had a deep, sincere love for the beauty that lay beneath the earth. Despite the chaos he knew came from too much attraction to gold, he still held a deep fascination with the jewels that could come from the stone under their feet. He respected his people’s ability to hew amazing things from the stone, whether it was their great cities or the smallest gems that sparkled like stars beneath the earth.   
Yes, Thorin seemed, at first glance, the most typical image of a dwarf. So why did he love the raven nest so much? With its extreme height and open air at the very peak of the Mountain? Perhaps it was because the ravens themselves were so important to him. They were the sigil of his house, of his royal line, and they were the link between all the dwarf kingdoms. They willingly travelled across the world on a mission, delivering news, messages, good or bad; and all for the promise of returning to their nests once again. He understood that well.   
So there he sat, looking out over the valley towards Dale and beyond to the Long Lake and the Brown Lands. He thought he could still see the rotting body of the dragon still adrift on the ruins of Lake-town, though it could have been the light on the water playing tricks on his mind. He would have to arrange a party soon to go down and investigate. A decaying body of that size could cause huge problems. But there was still so much to do in the Mountain.   
He sighed as he watched the sun dip lower and lower towards the lake. It was getting late, and he had already disobeyed Bilbo’s direct orders by climbing all these stairs. He carried fresh bandages with him at all times, and he stopped every time his side hurt, he did everything else the hobbit had told him to. Not that this technicality would save him from his tiny but fierce wrath. He reluctantly got to his feet, giving a waking raven a quick stroke on the back before heading down the narrow staircase.

Balin was his first port of call; he should talk to him about the dragon before he forgot. He took the stairs from the nest down to the higher halls, bypassing the corridor that led to the royal quarters, and down the southern staircase. Balin would most likely be in the library.   
Once he reached the lower level, he rounded a corner and almost walked headfirst into Ori. The scribe jumped slightly and let out a gasp before smiling uneasily at him.   
“Apologies, my king,” he said with a short bow that made Thorin chuckle.   
“Ori, we already spoke about this. You helped me reclaim this kingdom. In an informal setting I would prefer you to call me Thorn.”   
“Yes, of course,” Ori nodded. “I am trying to remember.”   
“Did you get a chance to speak to Kíli?”   
As he half-expected, Ori’s expression fell as he slowly shook his head.   
“He said no. I gave him the drawings but he wouldn’t even look at them. And when I tried to convince him I only made him angrier.”   
“He didn’t take it out on you I hope?”   
The look in Ori’s eye answered that question for him.   
“It’s alright,” he said quickly. “I understand he’s in pain. We’re all in some kind of pain after…after what happened…” He trailed off and Thorin could see the young dwarf’s eyes grow dark, his skin drain of what little colour it still had since the battle. The hard fist of guilt tightened in his chest.   
“How are you, Ori? Truly?”   
“I’m…” he sighed. “It’s strange. I’ve read about the states dwarves can be in after battles and I know I’m supposed to talk about it. But the strange thing is, I just can’t.”   
“You will,” Thorin assured him. “When you’re ready.”   
Ori nodded once before setting another smile on his face. “I should get back. Dori will go mad if I’m more than five minutes late. His nit-picking is worse than ever these days.”   
Thorin nodded and stood aside to let him pass, but Ori only fixed him with an apologetic look.   
“I’m sorry I couldn’t help Kíli.”   
“Don’t worry, it was a slim chance anyway.” Thorin smiled as Ori passed him and he returned it half-heartedly.

In the library, where he expected to find his white-haired advisor, he instead was greeted by the sight of familiar curly hair and slightly pointed ears.   
Bilbo turned at the sound of the door and smiled when he saw Thorin.   
“Bilbo,” Thorin greeted him with a friendly nod. “I was just looking for Balin.”   
“As was I,” Bilbo replied. “Ori said he would be back soon.”   
“Shall I wait with you?”   
“Please,” Bilbo leapt to his feet and drew a chair for him. Thorin thanked him and took a seat.   
“What do you want to see him about, if I may ask?” Bilbo took a seat next to him. “Or is it official royal business?”   
He smirked and Thorin chuckled.   
“Not exactly. I’ve been thinking about the dragon again.”   
A small shiver ran over the hobbit, though he tried to suppress it.   
“It’s been lying in that lake for weeks now,” Thorin continued. “I think we should start talking about removing it.”   
“Yes,” Bilbo said in a hoarse voice before clearing his throat loudly. “Yes, that’s a good idea. It’ll pollute the water horribly if it’s left and who knows how far it would spread.”   
“Exactly,” Thorin nodded, looking intently at Bilbo as his face contorted into a little frown. He changed the subject.   
“What about you? Why are you waiting for Balin?”   
He seemed to have only made it worse as Bilbo ducked his head, his nose nervously twitching.   
“I…uh…” He cleared his throat again. “I’ve just been thinking…”   
He shuffled his huge feet awkwardly but Thorin waited in silence for him to find the words.   
“I’ve been thinking Bilbo said again before looking back up at him. “That it’s time I returned home.”   
For many long moments Thorin couldn’t speak. Instead he stared at Bilbo with a strange mixture of shock, sadness and even a small amount of anger seeping from his mind to his expression. Bilbo swallowed slightly and spoke again.   
“I’ve been away for over nine months Thorin,” he said calmly. “It’ll take me six months to get back, by then who knows what state the place will be in.”   
“No,” Thorin said with a slight growl. “It’s out of the question. You cannot travel at these times by yourself. I won’t allow it.”   
“I won’t be alone. Gandalf said he would accompany me.”   
“The wizard is gone! He left for Lothlórien some days ago with Radagast.”   
“I know, I spoke to him before he left. He said he would meet me again at Beorn’s.”   
“No.” Thorin shook his head fiercely. “You cannot leave yet.”   
He caught Bilbo’s expression and immediately felt ashamed at his tone. The hobbit was staring wide-eyed at him, a sad but determined expression on his face.   
“Thorin, you can’t keep me here,” he reminded him in a remarkably gentle voice. “I’m not under your command anymore.”   
With a deep sigh Thorin closed his eyes for a moment, beating away the darkness in the back of his mind before nodding again.   
“I understand that,” he said, but found that he couldn’t meet the hobbit’s eye. For some inexplicable reason he had never considered that Bilbo would leave. It seemed ridiculous to him now, but it was the truth.   
“Thorin,” Bilbo said again and this time he forced himself to look at him. To his surprise, Bilbo was smiling.   
“This whole quest has been…mad for one thing. Utterly devoid of logic and reason. But I’m going to look back on the whole thing with joy and I’ll always remember it for the adventure I’ve dreamed of having all my life. I suppressed that dream because I was told it wasn’t normal for a hobbit to want such things, and for years I believed I didn’t really want it. But now I know that, while it was in many ways a stupid and rash thing to do, it was also the best decision I’ve ever made.”   
The light in the Bilbo’s eyes flared as he spoke and Thorin found himself smiling at the hobbit.   
“Gandalf told me that if I did this and managed to return, then I would never be the same. And he’s right, I’m not. I’ve seen trolls and elves and bears that turn into men, and I’ve fought goblins and giant spiders and orcs. I’ve been in a great battle…” he trailed off slightly, as if worried about his words but Thorin only nodded for him to continue.   
“I…I don’t think I will ever forget that battle, even though I desperately want to sometimes. But I’ve learned a lot from it, and I’ve learned a lot from you. All of you.”   
His eyes were wide, pleading for Thorin to understand and, now that he finally had a chance, Thorin smiled as he spoke.   
“I could not have done this without you, Master Burglar,” he said softly. Bilbo seemed to sigh in relief and he continued. “I treated you terribly back then, and I’ve led you into so much danger, I will always be sorry for that.”   
Bilbo opened his mouth as if to protest but Thorin silenced him.   
“I am sorry for that. You said that you would help me take back my home, and you have kept your word. It’s only fair that I keep mine. You were hired as a burglar for the duration of the quest, which is now over. You can leave whenever you wish and I will give you what is owed.”   
Bilbo frowned and went to speak again, and again Thorin silenced him.   
“I, personally, would ask you to stay, as a guest and as a friend, at least until the snows are gone. It will be much safer to travel then, and I can get a message to Gandalf so he can escort you back. Does that sound agreeable to you?”   
At this he could see the hobbit visibly relax, and his smile grew wider as Bilbo’s entire face lit up with joy.   
“Yes,” he nodded. “That sounds most agreeable indeed.”


	7. Winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The angst lies heavy in the air...

_ Cairi _

Everything was cold – the air, the floor, the stone, my hands and feet, my very bones. It felt as if every semblance of warmth had been leeched out of the world.   
I tucked the blanket more snugly around my shoulders and flexed my fingers, trying to keep my blood flowing.   
“You finished on those cabinets yet?” Prue’s shrill demand made me shudder with frustration – though thankfully the cold made that easy to cover up.   
“Not yet, just got one left -”   
“Well ‘urry up then! We’re ready to move on to the floors!”   
“I’ll go much faster if you stop distracting me,” I growled and deliberately turned away. The dust and general detritus in the cabinets were almost revolting. Many of them were filled with reusable items; plates, bowls, cutlery, and the like and these had all been stacked as neatly as possible on a large, remarkably intact wooden table that made us think this was once a dining hall. Others had fabrics and covers that were mostly moth-eaten but Sigrid insisted they could be saved with a bit of work, and so they went into another pile. The cabinet that had previously held food is not even worth thinking about. Needless to say, Prue graciously left that disaster to me.   
The water I had retrieved to wash down the cabinets had gone cold long before I was finished and I couldn’t wait to put my borrowed woollen gloves back on.   
When that glorious moment finally arrived, of course it was time to sweep the floors, before we got to work scrubbing the cutlery and everything else clean. ‘Scrubbing’ was fast becoming the most used word in my vocabulary.   
Sweeping, as always proved incredibly monotonous and I felt my mind drifting away with the very dust I was clearing.   
The dwarves from the camp, Balin and Dwalin, had visited a few days before, quite out of the blue. Balin had brought messages for King Bard from King Thorin and after they had spoken with him they had asked to see me. We spoke of the progress of Erebor and Dale, of my own recovery and then, finally, of my memories. Most of them were still frustratingly unclear, I had told them, and the look that had crossed their faces felt like a great weight in my chest. I had felt guilty for telling them the news and found myself promising them I was doing my best to remember, that I was writing everything down and hoping to sort it through properly. As for now, the thought most prying on my mind was…why? Why did I feel guilty? Why did I care so much that they knew I was trying? It was confusing me more and more.   
“’Takin’ a break are we?”   
I jumped at the sudden shrill voice filling the air and turned to see Prue glaring at me, hands on her hips.   
“Or is it the lady’s naptime?”   
“I was just thinking for a moment,” I replied flatly.   
“Well thinkin’s not gonner do a thing for those floors!”   
“Neither is shouting at me,” I returned her glare. “Feel free to pick up a broom yourself.”   
“You cheeky little – I’ve got me own chores t’do and all!”   
“Then why are you standing watching me? Taking a break?” I scoffed.   
“You want to watch your step, girl,” Prue said, taking a few steps towards me. “King Bard could ‘ave you out of ‘ere in a second if ‘e thought you were slackin’.”   
“I’m not his servant, I’m his guest,” I pointed out. “And he’s allowing me to stay until I’m recovered. I’m helping you with these chores out of the kindness of my heart.” I raised an eyebrow. “Not to mention sheer boredom.”   
It was Prue’s turn to scoff. “Typical of your folk, ungrateful little vultures the lot of you.”   
“And who exactly are ‘my folk?’” I demanded, standing up straight to look directly at her. “Travellers, you mean?”   
“If the rags fit,” she sneered.   
“Same goes for you, small-minded judgemental townsfolk who can’t see further than the end of their own nose.”   
“You ‘old your tongue girl! Or you’ll feel the back of my hand!”   
I threw the broom to the floor and stormed up to her, forcing her to back up a few paces.   
“Please, try it. I beg you,” I hissed, breathing hard. “I killed a dozen orcs in that camp and the gods know how many more I can’t remember. You pose absolutely no threat to me, you stupid old woman.”   
Prue’s pale eyes went wide at my words and her bottom lip trembled furiously. She began to back away again, slowly raising a shaking hand to point at me.   
“I’ll be tellin’ King Bard about this.”   
“Just as you like,” I spat. “As long as it gets you out of my sight.”   
She reached the wooden doors behind her and stumbled out, slamming them shut after her.   
I took a deep breath, and then another, trying to quell the rage stirring in my chest. Furious tears sprang to my eyes but I forced them down. Bard would be angry, I had no doubt about that. Prue was his friend, his children loved her, but gods she was infuriating!   
I could not put up with much more of her poisonous words, that much I knew. I would just have to find a way of calmly explaining that to him so I didn’t end up in any more trouble.   
I picked up the broom from where it had fallen and continued sweeping, humming to myself in an attempt to calm down.   
Eventually, my humming formed a tune, and my memories began to stir slightly. Voices that were not my own filled my head, singing the strange words I had learnt all those years ago – though it still literally felt as though it were mere weeks ago.

 _“A naoidhean bhig, cluinn mo ghuth_  
Mise ri d’ thaobh, Ó mhaighdean bhàn  
Ar rìbhinn òg, fàs a’s faic  
Do thìr, dìleas fhéin

 _“A ghrian a’s a ghealach, stiùir sinn_  
Gu uair ar cliù ‘s ar glòir  
Naoidhean bhig, ar rìbhinn òg   
Mhaighdean uasal bhàn.”

“Spare us all!”   
The abrupt shout made me jump and drop the broom, and I turned to find Prue and Bard staring from the open doorway.   
“She be singing in ‘er strange tongue Sire! What’d I tell you? She -!”  
“Prue, enough. Singing won’t harm you. Why don’t you let me deal with this?”   
Prue looked between us first, opening her mouth as if to argue before deciding against it and nodding. “As you please, Sire.” With a final glare at me she turned away and disappeared into the corridor.   
I kept my head down as Bard closed the door and came slowly towards me, but I could only handle a few moments of silence before I snapped.   
“I don’t know what she’s been saying about me but it’s not true! I’m working hard, sir, I’m not taking any kind of advantage -!”   
“What are you talking about?” Bard cut me off and I looked up to find he was smiling as if in amusement. For some reason this only made me angrier.   
“She’s been saying things about me, sir, I know she has. That I’m lazy and I’m -!”   
“First of all,” he cut me off again. “My name is not ‘Sir,’ it’s Bard. You know that.”   
“I know,” I frowned. “But I thought you were here to throw me out…”   
“Cairi I’m not going to throw you out,” he said, his smile finally fading. “You’re here as my guest and my friend.” He gently took my arm and led me to the long dining table, taking a seat on the bench and motioning for me to do the same. “I promise you, again, that you can stay here as long as you like.”   
I couldn’t help sighing a little in relief as I nodded in understanding.   
“You can speak freely to me,” he added, but I could only nod again.   
“What was it you were singing?” he asked when it became clear I wasn’t going to speak.   
“Oh, just a song I knew from before…” I answered vaguely.   
“What language was it? I didn’t recognise it.”   
“It’s a Southern language I think, I’m not sure exactly. Some of the travellers we worked with spoke it.”   
“I see,” he nodded, a faint smile returning to his lips. “It was rather beautiful actually. The words I mean. And I’ve never heard you sing before.”   
“It’s what I did,” I told him. “For money. My mother taught me.” It was as if a dead weight fell suddenly inside me as I found myself unable to say anymore. Tears sprang to my eyes and I fought against them desperately. Something in my expression must have given me away because Bard’s warm hand came to rest on mine, clasped in my lap.   
“I understand it’s hard, losing your family. It makes you angry at everything, and sad, and then angry because you’re sad.” He squeezed my hands gently and I nodded slightly, raising my head to look at him properly once my face was more composed. At this, Bard smiled slightly, squeezing my hands again.   
“If it’s any help, I think you’re being remarkably strong in this.”   
“Thank you,” I said a little hoarsely. I hastily cleared my throat and tried again. “It helps a little.”   
“Good,” his smile grew wider before he removed his hand and went to get to his feet. “And don’t worry about Prue. She has her prejudices, like most of the older people here, but she has a good heart and I know that when she gets to know you she will treat you as her own.”   
“I think that might take a while,” I replied gloomily.

_ Kíli _

 “Kíli,” Dwalin’s voice came from next to him. “Pass me that hammer would yeh?”   
Glancing up, he spotted the tool on the anvil next to him and passed it to the other dwarf without a word. For the next few minutes they kept on with their work, until Dwalin broke the silence again.   
“Have yeh been down into the trainin’ grounds yet?”   
“No,” he answered, trying to keep the clip out of his tone.    
“They’ve set up the targets again is all. I thought yeh might be interested.”   
He made no answer. Archery was the last thing he felt like doing these days. It was too familiar.   
When another long silence followed Dwalin spoke again.   
“I saw Vana last week.”   
_Of course,_ Kíli thought. _It always came back to that.  
_ “You mean Cairi,” he muttered.   
“She’s still findin’ her feet,” Dwalin continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “But she’s a lot more co-operative now. She’s been tryin’ to sort her memories out so she tells me.”   
“I wish her luck.”   
There was a short pause in which he could feel Dwalin’s eyes boring into the back of his neck, but he ignored it determinedly.   
“She’s not happy there Kíli.”   
That made him pause.   
“She doesn’t say it, but I can see it. She’s too careful about what she does or says, even around the bargeman – the King I should say. I’ve been thinkin’ about suggestin’ she comes home with us, but I don’t know if she’s ready for that. What d’yeh think?”   
The cold thread of panic was edging its way up Kíli’s spine, creeping like a spider ready to sting him in the back of the head. His hands were shaking on the stone and he tensed in anger, shaking his head slightly to try and quell the frenzy threatening to take him over.   
“I don’t think you should interfere,” he managed to say.   
“Why d’yeh say that?”   
He swallowed hard before answering. “She’s not the same person anymore. She doesn’t belong here.”   
There was a long silence, and for a moment Kíli allowed himself to believe Dwalin would actually leave it alone. As he expected, it was all in vain.   
“I don’ believe that,” Dwalin said softly. “I think the person we both knew is still in there somewhere. And I think we can help her get back if we just -”   
“We tried that already,” Kíli replied through gritted teeth. “It only made things worse.”   
“That was at the beginnin’!” Dwalin said, his anger showing more clearly now. “When she was still in shock. Now that she’s had time to adjust -”   
“Dwalin, you need to leave her alone, I mean it.” He spoke softly but pointedly, forcing himself to look the other dwarf in the eye. He immediately wished he hadn’t as Dwalin’s dark gaze became cloudy and mournful. Kíli looked away again, but not before he caught Dwalin slowly shake his head.   
“I’m surprised at yeh Kíli. I would’ve thought you’d have more loyalty. To a fellow member of the Company, to the woman yeh supposedly _love -_ ”  
“And what would you know of it?” he snapped, straightening up and rounding on the old warrior. “How long did you sit with her while she was unconscious? Five minutes?”   
Dwalin’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Careful, Kíli.”   
“You weren’t there for her when she needed you!” His snarl became a shout, in spite of himself. “I was! I sat there for nearly a fortnight while you stayed as far from her as possible!”   
This time Dwalin raised a beefy finger. “Shut yer mouth!”   
“You dare to lecture me about loyalty and love?! What about the love for your own daughter? Where were you Dwalin? When she was fighting for her life in the towers? When she was defending Thorin on the ice fields? Where were-”   
He was cut off by a hard knock to his face which snapped his head back and he felt the hot blood running from his nose before he felt any pain. He looked back to find Dwalin glaring at him and panting like a bull whose seen a trespasser in his field.   
“You insolent puppy!” he snarled and Kíli lunged at him with a growl worthy of an entire wolf pack. Dwalin staggered slightly at the force of his attack but soon matched it and they were locked in a wrestling match. Kíli kicked him in the stomach, Dwalin headbutted him, Kíli threw a punch at his head, Dwalin tackled him hard in the chest and sent him tumbling to the floor, Kíli gripped Dwalin’s shirt and pulled him down with him, aiming another kick to his stomach, trying to roll on top of him.   
“STOP THIS AT ONCE!” A thundering roar throughout the cavern caused every dwarf in the room to freeze, including the two fighters who glanced up. To Kíli’s utter shock, considering the sheer volume of his voice, it was Fíli storming towards them, bearing more resemblance to their mother than ever before. He stopped in front of them.   
“Dwalin,” he said softly. “Get off my brother and go and wait in the small council room. The king will want to speak to you.”   
Kíli glanced up at Dwalin and was surprised to find the old warrior looking down at him, as if he never even noticed Fíli was there. They were both panting heavily from the fight and Kíli was beginning to notice an ache in his ribs as well as his nose. Dwalin stared down at him for a moment with an expression Kíli thought could be remorse, before slowly easing himself up and marching out of the room.   
Suppressing a groan as the weight of the other warrior lifted, Kíli could only nod as Fíli ordered him to follow him to his uncle’s study. 

He felt like he was in his twenties all over again; being sent to his mother after drawing on Balin’s scrolls or accidentally-on-purpose pouring ink all over another dwarfling’s shirt. His eye was throbbing and he could taste the blood pouring onto his lips from his nose. Gingerly he reached up to touch it. There was a dull ache that turned into a stab of pain at his touch, but he didn’t feel a break. Dwalin had held back.   
He didn’t speak to Fíli and Fíli didn’t speak to him; it was only when they reached the door to Thorin’s study that the older prince turned to his little brother. Even then there were no words, just Fíli’s sad expression that felt like another kick in Kíli’s gut.   
Fíli turned away and opened the door, holding it and motioning for Kíli to go inside. He did so, avoiding Fíli’s gaze.   
“What’s all this?” Thorin had looked up from his work to see him come in, and as soon as Kíli’s face entered the torchlight Thorin sprang to his feet. “What happened to you?”   
“I had a fight with Dwalin,” Kíli grumbled, flinching at the almighty crash of the stone door slamming shut. He glanced round. Fíli was gone.   
“You ‘had a fight with Dwalin?’” Thorin repeated with some difficulty, as if the words wouldn’t fit together.   
“Yes.”   
Thorin huffed impatiently. “What about?”   
Kíli didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Then he’d have to say her name.   
“Kíli, I’ll be speaking to Dwalin after this so you might as well tell me your side.”   
Kíli only looked at the floor. He would do anything; he would scrub floors or go down the mines for a month straight or clean chamberpots in the healing houses; he would do anything that meant he didn’t have to talk.   
Several long moments of silence was broken by Thorin’s deep sigh.   
“Fine. Go to the healing house and get yourself cleaned up. Send Dwalin to me while you’re at it. I’ll deal with you later.”

_ Cairi _

The sun set so early these days, hours before anyone went to bed, and if anything it made the cold worse. I excused myself soon after dinner, pleading tiredness after yet another day of cleaning. Truthfully I wanted to write some more; with every word I put on paper my mind became that little bit clearer and I was starting to crave the relief I felt after writing even only a few lines. It made it much easier to sleep.   
Along the corridor I spotted Prue coming out of the wash room and heading for the stairs. Thinking of Bard’s words from before, I took a deep breath and walked past my door towards her.   
“Prue?”   
She turned sharply at the sound of my voice, her old face crinkling slightly as she stared at me.   
“Yes?”   
“I, uh,” I stopped several feet from her, wrapping my arms around myself in an attempt to look as inoffensive as possible. “I just wanted to apologise for earlier. I was cold and grumpy and I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. I’m sorry.”   
She didn’t answer, she didn’t react in any way, she just kept staring at me. I swallowed and tried again.   
“I know you don’t like me, or at least you don’t trust me, but I promise I’m not your enemy. Bard’s been very kind to me is all, and I want to repay him -”   
“I bet you do,” she said in a low voice.   
“Excuse me?”   
“You think you’ve got King Bard wrapped around your little finger don’t you?” she sneered. “‘E’s a king now, a respec’able figure, easy on the eyes, and as luck would ‘ave it in need of a wife. Tis an opportunity not to be missed eh?”   
_This is not at all where I thought this was going…_  
“‘In need of -?’ No, Prue, I don't... I’m not here to be anyone’s wife!”   
“Wha’ever you say,” she grumbled, rolling her eyes. “Just know this: 'Is family is as good as my own now, and I won’ take kindly to any ‘oo think they can take advantage of their kindness!”   
“Look, I understand that you love them,” I tried again. “Sigrid told me about your sons, and I’m very sorry for -”   
“’Ow dare you!” Prue shouted suddenly, making me jump. “That’s none o’ your damn business! ‘Oo d’you think you are? ‘Ow dare you talk to me like this!”   
She advanced towards me and I fled back down the corridor, shoving my door open and slamming it shut behind me, blocking her yells and curses.   
I leaned against the door, breathing heavily as she finally ceased and went away.   
_That was exactly what I didn’t want to happen_.   
I closed my eyes, trying to calm myself down but then all I saw was my little brother, cowering in the trees where I left him all those years ago. The very bones in my chest seemed to clench in grief and I imagined that Prue must have felt the very same at the mention of her sons.   
_Stupid, stupid…_   
With shaking hands I lit the candles on the desk and unrolled the parchments, taking a seat to start writing. The flicker of the candle flame shimmered suddenly in a small dark surface on the desk, drawing my eyes to the runestone. It sat exactly where I’d left it in the corner of the desk, the runes facing up out of the shadows.   
I reached over and picked it up, turning it over in my fingers. It was remarkably smooth; it hadn’t gathered any dust, nor garnered any scratches or imperfections of any kind. It seemed entirely untouched. It was light, no heavier than a small pebble, but when I tapped it on the desk experimentally it sounded like a small stone hammer. I frowned and looked more closely at the table surface and found a small dent left behind.   
Blinking in surprise, I sat back in the chair and kept staring at the stone, moving it in the candlelight and running my fingers over the surface. It was strangely calming, having it there, and several minutes later I picked up the quill and began to write.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: Patrick Doyle - Noble Maiden Fair


	8. Spring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If it's any consolation for the absence, this is a longer chapter. We're skipping forward slightly to April T.A.2942...

_ Cairi _

The spring of 2942 of the third age had come to Dale with a long overdue sense of revival. The land around the city had been furiously worked until the rubble and decay of the past was gone to be replaced with earth fresh for tilling. It had been a steep learning curve for the fishermen to suddenly become farmers, but nobody took the challenge lightly. Men, women and children who had the strength and the time spent their days dividing the land between them, and readying it for planting as soon as the snow and frost melted. King Bard’s plan was to prove Dale a self-sufficient city once again, and his communication with the settlements in Rohan and Gondor meant that further trade routes were opening up to them.   
Thranduil’s gifts of seed and knowledge of the land, now coupled with tools from Thorin’s forges meant that the people of Dale learned their new crafts quickly and their hopes for prosperity grew with every passing day. I spent many of my days with Sigrid and Tilda in the newly renovated buildings helping make them liveable once more. That was the general job description anyway; to me it seemed all I was doing was sweeping or sorting through materials and old supplies, dividing the useable sources from the unusable. Any fabrics we could find were given to the seamstresses for blankets and clothes, any metals to the blacksmiths and any documents, books or scrolls that were still legible were given to the newly-appointed accountants and the clerks (who consisted mainly of men and women too old for work or with long-term injuries from the battle, who had decent reading and writing abilities). None in Dale were idle, though many were growing weary of their repetitive days.

One warm April morning, we woke to find the sun shining, brighter than I ever remembered seeing it in a clear, blue sky without a cloud in sight. Bard declared that morning that there was to be no work today, that we would instead take time to celebrate the new dawn. His announcement sent a tidal wave of smiles throughout the city and many took to the streets to celebrate.   
In the end the suggestion to throw a party ended up coming from Tilda, who declared it too glorious a day to remain inside to eat. Bard agreed wholeheartedly and sent his three children to spread the word; there would be a feast tonight.   
The gates of Dale were opened and people flocked outside with any spare chairs and tables they could find, setting them up outside the walls and building the foundations of cooking fires in between them. The barrels of Elven wine sent from Mirkwood were fished out and a few groups of men were sent in different directions to hunt.   
I myself made no less than four journeys to and from the Great Hall in Dale, ferrying furniture, plates, cutlery and coverings for the tables. On my fifth journey I was waylaid by Bard as he came out of the Hall carrying the front end of a large wooden table over his shoulder while Percy carried the back.   
“Cairi?” he called to me as he passed. “A few of the women found some instruments in the bastion. You play don’t you?”   
“I used to,” I answered. “It’s been a while.”   
“You should go and help them. They think some of them might be saveable.” He grinned and walked off, Percy giving me a glowing smile as he passed.   
“Miss,” he nodded and I smiled back before climbing the steps back up to the bastion. My legs were burning after all the walking, and I was relieved to find the instruments immediately as I entered the front hall, being polished and restrung by three women. I recognised one of them as Anna, one of the young healer apprentices and approached her.   
“King Bard asked me to find you,” I said and she turned to greet me, gesturing to an empty seat with the rusted flute she was holding.   
“Have a seat ma’am. He said you’d be interested. Do you play?”   
“Aye, fiddle,” I nodded, picking up one said instrument and inspecting it. The strings were still intact, but fraying where they were wound around the pins. I turned to the woman next to me who was dusting off another fiddle. “What’s your name?”   
She turned to me and gave me a small smile. “Leorie ma’am.”   
“Cairi,” I returned. “Do you play?”  
“No ma’am, but me father used to. And me son just started learnin’ afore the dragon came. Thought I’d surprise ‘im, if I can get it fixed. I’ve no ear for the tunin’ though.”   
“I can help you with that,” I offered.   
“That’d be good of ye ma’am.   
I nodded and glanced at the woman sitting across from her, an older woman who was staring at me with a stern face. She was resewing the cover over a hand-held drum, even as her eyes were on me.   
“I suppose you’ll be playing?” Her question was far too direct.   
“Perhaps,” I shrugged.   
“I suppose you learned on the road?”   
“That’s where I grew up,” I said stonily. Even in this supposedly brighter future it seemed I was still cursed with the inherent suspicion that comes from being born a traveller.   
My theory was proven correct when the woman sniffed slightly and returned to her sewing, ignoring me completely after that. The others didn’t look at either of us, instead seeming a lot more focused on their work.   
“Anna, do you play?” I asked, gesturing to the flute in her hand.   
“I do,” she answered with a smile and I felt myself relax. “My mother used to sing but I could never get the hang of it. My brothers used to tell me I sounded like a cat they’d accidently caught on their fish-hooks! So my dad bought me one for my 10th birthday. I lost mine in the fire so…” she held up the rusted flute and blew very sharply into the mouthpiece. A short but ear splitting scream echoed around the room and we all cringed at the sound, the older woman glaring as Anna started laughing.   
“Might need some more work!”   
I chuckled and continued retuning the fiddle.

_ Kíli _

He leant his forehead against the stone and let out a soft groan. He had no idea how long he’d been down here, only that when he’d risen it was still dark and there was no chance of him going back to sleep, not if he wanted rest. If he was working, his mind generally left him alone, and if he worked long enough, his mind and his body would be so exhausted that he would tend to sleep without any risk of dreams. It didn’t always work, but often enough his theory proved true.   
Last night, however, he’d been betrayed. He had dreamt of Vana and her bright smile, her slim but strong arms wrapped around him and the smell of her hair overcoming him. Then he had dreamt of blood and snow and the light fading from her completely as the ice swallowed her up.  
It was as if his mind hated him for allowing himself so many pleasant memories to build up, only for him to lose everything those very memories were based on, leaving him with nothing but long days in the dark and long nights alone.   
Shaking his head, Kíli forced himself upright and continued tying the ropes around the boulder. It was nearly as tall as he was and twice as wide, a chunk missing from one of the pillars from the council halls, and it would require a lot of leverage to move, at least half a dozen dwarves on the pulleys.   
He called over to the group with him to announce it was set and went to the pulleys to get started. He loved this part; the force of the rope pulling against his arms, threatening to lift his entire body from the ground, the burn in his muscles as he held on and in his legs when they manoeuvred it, the satisfaction when the rope was released. It exhausted him, but that was how he liked it.   
Before they could start, his brother’s voice interrupted, calling for him loudly and sharply through the chamber so there could be no mistaking him. He shut his eyes briefly, catching the looks from a few of the dwarves before telling them he’d be right back and storming over to his brother.   
“What is it, Fíli?”   
His brother regarded him coolly for a moment.   
“You missed breakfast. Again.”   
“I wasn’t hungry.”   
“You never are these days.”   
“Was that all you came to say?” he snapped, crossing his arms over chest.   
Fíli only sighed, regarding him with the same expression he’d been using for months. _Grow up, little brother,_ it said.   
“A rider came from Dale this morning. It seems Bard’s hosting a feast to celebrate the beginning of planting season. He’s invited us.”   
“You and I?” Kíli frowned.   
“All of the dwarves,” Fíli corrected him. “They’re setting up the feast outside Dale as we speak and have asked if we wish to join them. Thorin’s already organising hunting parties and Bombur’s raiding the kitchens for enough supplies.”   
“What does he want me to do?” Kíli asked blankly.   
“Actually, I wanted to see if you would come hunting with me,” Fíli said. “Like we used to. You need to get back out in the open Kee.”   
“I don’t need anything. I’m a dwarf aren’t I? I belong down here with the stone.”   
“You and I both know that’s not true,” Fíli said softly. “You love being outside.”   
“Well I don’t anymore,” Kíli said, turning to leave. He had barely gone two steps before Fíli’s authoritative voice filled the chamber once again.   
“King Thorin has declared today to be a holiday. The King of Dale invites us all to join him and his people in a feast tonight. There is work to be done before the celebrations can commence so we need every hand available. Please report to the Entrance Hall for further instructions.”   
The dwarves around them broke out in cheery conversation, each abandoning their tools and filing out of the hall, leaving the two Princes glaring at each other.   
“You have to help as well Kíli,” Fíli told him, his face stern once again. “If you don’t want to hunt you can carry the barrels of ale up from the cellars.”   
Kíli only scowled as he went past, but Fíli grabbed his arm and stopped him. He fixed his eyes on the doorway ahead, watching as the last dwarf exited before Fíli spoke again.   
“I’m don’t know what you think I’m trying to do,” Fíli hissed, pulling his brother round to face him. “I’m not trying to inconvenience you, or bully you or demean you in your grief.”   
Kíli looked at him then, feeling his mind whir in that horribly familiar way it did when he was trying to silence it. Fíli had never directly addressed what he was feeling in this way. Nobody had. He tried to shut his mind down, choosing to focus instead on his brother’s face as it softened, the sadness in his eyes breaking through his princely composure.   
“I miss you, Kee. I never see you. You don’t speak to me anymore, you don’t speak to anyone. I used to know everything you were thinking, and you were the same with me. You don’t have to talk about Vana -”   
Kíli flinched at her name, feeling the urge to run as far away as possible, but Fíli’s grip on him only tightened.   
“- but you need to stop this, for my sake if nothing else. I don’t know what I’m doing half the time. Uncle listens when he can but he’s so busy, and Balin and Dwalin don’t understand, not entirely. None of the others can. I need my brother back Kíli.”   
And Kíli looked at his brother properly for the first time in months; saw the tiredness and the trepidation in his bright blue eyes. _The Durin eyes…_   
He swallowed hard and took a deep breath, unintentionally letting his walls slip away. However instead of his old misery and guilt flooding his mind all he felt was exhaustion.   
Fíli seemed to feel it in his slackened posture, or perhaps he saw the energy flow out of his brother’s eyes, because he released his grip on Kíli’s arm and instead rested his hand on his shoulder.   
“Go and get some sleep. I saved you some breakfast, it’s in your room. Come down when you’re rested.”   
Unable to speak, Kíli only nodded, before joining his brother as they left the chamber.

The feast turned out to be a much more splendid affair than Kíli imagined. The people of Dale and the dwarves of Erebor rallied and threw together a pretty impressive atmosphere, considering most of their materials were scrounged from the ruins of their respective cities. The dwarven and human hunting parties had managed to garner enough game which, coupled with their stores, gave everyone present to have a small share, and the fires roasted and boiled away for most of the evening.   
Kíli sat with his brother, Bofur and Nori, sharing cups of ale and catching up with the events of the last few months. Bofur regaled them with stories from the mines, which were holding up surprisingly well given their neglect. Nori, whose leg was now healed to the point where he could walk without too much aid, was busy mapping out the secret passages of the kingdom and refused to share too many details, insisting he was under orders from Thorin not to recount his findings to anyone. He did, however, tell them of a passageway he had found, carved into the rock separating one of the chambers in the council member’s quarters to a dwarrowdam’s chambers two levels above – a story which sent them all laughing at the notion of illicit affairs.   
“Listen to us!” Fíli exclaimed, hitting Nori in the shoulder. “We sound like a band of old women!”   
“I never pegged you for a gossip,” Bofur grinned, chugging down the last of his ale.   
“Who’s gossiping?” Bilbo appeared before them with his oversized mug of ale which he nearly spilt as he tumbled into his seat.   
“That would be me,” Nori said proudly. “Let’s just say there was definitely some sort of extra-curricular activities going on with one of the council members on a couple floors below the dwarrowdam’s quarters. That means it was definitely someone high up.”   
“Blimey,” Bilbo said with a slight hiccup. “It wasn’t Balin I hope?”   
Kíli nearly choked on his drink at that remark, suddenly picturing a younger, dark-haired Balin sneaking around with a busty dwarrowdam. Fíli thumped him on the back and grinned at Bilbo.   
“Does Uncle know how much you’ve been drinking Bilbo?”   
“Your uncle?” Bilbo hiccupped again. “He gave me the first two…the second two I’m not sure he knows about. I sort of snuck away.”   
“Why?” Kíli asked him.   
“Well I…” Bilbo’s little face suddenly fell. “I have to leave soon. Gandalf said he would return to collect me in the spring and take me back to the Shire.”   
The four dwarves fell silent at that, glancing awkwardly at each other before Bofur finally spoke up.   
“Truth be told laddie, I never thought of that till now.”   
“You sure you have to leave so soon?” Fíli asked.   
“It’s been a year since I left Bag End,” Bilbo said solemnly. “And it will take a good six months to get back. People will wonder what on earth’s happened to me. No, I have to go home.”   
“Will you visit?” Nori asked suddenly before clearing his throat. “I know Ori will miss you.”   
“We all will,” Fíli amended. “And please make sure you write to us.”   
“Of course I will,” Bilbo said before letting out a small laugh. “I don’t know what I could possibly write about. After everything that’s happened I imagine you’d be bored stiff hearing about my gardening and arguments with the Sackville-Bagginses over who are the rightful owners of my great-grandfather’s spoons.”    
Everyone chuckled and Kíli looked around him, smiling slightly to himself. It felt good to laugh again, and to be outside, but the ever-present thought that something was missing nagged on him.

The slow, melodic screech of a fiddle reached his ears and the Dwarves turned towards the sound, their chatter dying down at the noise. Kíli searched the crowds but saw nothing, other than many Dwarves and humans alike gathering in front of him, each looking to the source of the sound. Slowly, a tune began to form and soon the music from the fiddle began to flow through the air like the echo of a familiar voice calling him home. With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Kíli set his mug down and made his way into the crowd, pushing gently through them until he could see the source of the music.   
Vana was smiling – that was the first thing he noticed. The second thing was that her hair was much shorter – cut away to just below her shoulders. The sight made him angry for a split second, Vana always had the most beautiful hair, but then he noticed her smile again. She was grinning widely at the smallest of the spectators surrounding her. Several of the children in Dale were gathered by her legs, some were even dancing as she played faster. Then she laughed, and that made Kíli feel both elated and deeply sad at the same time – something he never would have thought possible until now.   
She was barefoot – naturally – and wore a white, short-sleeved shirt tucked into a long red skirt that flowed out as she moved like the ripples of a fiery mountain stream. Then she began to sing, her words floating through the air like dandelion seeds in a strong wind.

_“Gin a body meet a body,_ _  
Comin' thro’ the rye  
Gin a body kiss a body,   
Need a body cry?  
Ilka lassie has a laddie  
Nane, they say, ha'e I  
Yet a' the lads they smile at me  
When comin' thro’ the rye._

_“Gin a body meet a body_ _  
Comin' frae the town,  
Gin a body meet a body,  
Need a body frown?  
Ilka lassie has a laddie,  
Nane, they say, ha'e I,  
But all the lads they lo'e me weel  
And what the waur am I?”_

He didn’t follow all the words; they were a strange dialect he’d never heard before, and he wondered just how far she had travelled in her previous life. The crowd seemed to enjoy it, despite understanding as little as he did. She was hypnotic in her performance, her words and music giving an air of mystery and transcendence that demanded appreciation. He could have listened to her forever.   
When she finished singing the children begged for more and she laughed fondly at them before nodding and raising her bow again.  
The tune was soft but flowed fast like a trickling stream racing down a hill to meet a waterfall. She began to lead the children in a dance around the grass, swaying lightly, kicking up her feet and letting her hair swing over her shoulder. The men and women watched in delight and even the stoniest of dwarves couldn’t help but smile as she went.   
Almost as suddenly as it had begun, the tune changed. Vana spun round, her bow arm flying back and forth across the instrument at a lightning speed. Cheers began to erupt from the crowd, many onlookers, Man and Dwarf alike, clapping along while the children leapt up and down in excitement. Again, Vana spun round, a huge grin threatening to split her face in two as she kept dancing, almost leaping over the grass like a doe on a hillside.   
The sight of her made Kíli smile as his mind jumped back to their time in Rivendell and her dancing in her white dress, and the night they had spent together.   
It hit him like a knife in the gut; the pain he had been trying for so long to avoid, to push down, to forget. Looking at her now he realised that the woman he had seen that night wasn’t his Vana, it was Cairi, the traveller who danced for money. His Vana, the one who kissed him, held him and made love to him, didn’t exist anymore. She had died in battle, to save him, his brother and his uncle; a noble death, no doubt, but no less painful.   
Unable to bear the sight of this stranger any longer, he tore his eyes away and elbowed his way back through the crowds. He needed to start moving on, to forget, but first he needed a drink.

_ Fíli _

He couldn’t have told anyone how long she played, only that it was longer than he would have thought possible, but still Fíli watched with a grin as she scratched out the final note and was among the loudest to cheer as she bowed to her audience.   
It seemed the only ones more elated by her playing than him were the children, who instantly gathered around her begging for more. She shook her head fondly at them, telling them she desperately needed a break but she would play again later. She broke away from the crowd and went to a nearby table, setting her fiddle carefully on the table and picking up a mug.   
He took his chance and sidled his way over to her, catching her eye and smiling at her. She looked wary, though she nodded back politely. He made sure to keep a respectful distance on the other side of the table as he approached.   
“You played wonderfully,” he said, raising his voice slightly over the chatter of the crowds.   
“Thank you,” she said, her tone still guarded.   
“It’s a lovely evening for it,” he said, glancing up at the night sky.   
“Yes, I agree,” she replied. “Not at all cold.”   
“The ale certainly helps,” he chuckled, raising his own mug slightly before catching her eye again. “How have you been Cairi?”   
At the sound of her name, she visibly relaxed and when she smiled again her expression was much warmer, just like before.   
“I’ve been well, my lord, thank you.”   
“Please,” he took a seat opposite her, resting his drink on the table. “Call me Fíli.”   
“Are you sure?” she asked and he nodded. “Okay, and how have you been Fíli?”   
“Busy, the Mountain is still in need of many repairs and the Dwarves in need of organising. But I’d rather be in the mines or the caverns hauling stone than stuck in endless council meetings trying not to drown in parchment and ink.”   
“I know what you mean,” she said, her gaze meeting his with much more ease now. “There’s always something to do in Dale. If I’m not clearing out rooms in the bastion I’m in the fields planting seeds or pulling weeds. I try to help with the building or the tilling but Men are never keen to let a woman prove her strength.”   
“Only because they’re afraid you’d show them up,” Fíli grinned. “Do you enjoy living in Dale?”   
“I do,” she said, though her smile faded slightly. “I just wish I was taken more seriously.”   
“How do you mean?”   
“It’s not really their fault. People who grow up in small towns like this one rarely trust outsiders, especially travellers.”   
“They’re not mistreating you I hope,” Fíli said with a frown.   
“No, not at all,” she shook her head. “Just some strange looks or a snide comment from time to time. Most of them think I can’t be all that bad or Bard wouldn’t be so kind to me.”   
“I’m glad,” Fíli smiled again and she returned it. “As long as you’re happy.”   
“I am,” she said, her gaze lingering on his. Neither of them spoke for a few long moments until finally she cleared her throat, her fingers locking a little tighter around her mug.   
“I – um -” she faltered slightly before looking down at her drink. “I’ve been writing down some things…things that feel like memories…”   
Her voice was so soft that at first Fíli wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly. He repeated her words inside his head before allowing his elation to bubble over in a slight smile.   
“That’s wonderful! May I ask what they are?”   
“Um…just little things…apples and sliced bread?” She looked up at him, her eyes widening slightly as he grinned.   
“We went hunting, you, me and Kíli, and we ended up stuck on a cliff far from our camp and had to take shelter in a cave. The only things we had to eat were apples and bread.”   
“And we sang that song we learned from the merchants?” she said, her eyes brightening.   
“ _I’m sailin’ awa’ in the mornin’, I’m sailin’ awa’ on the tide,”_ Fíli sang softly.   
“ _And when I return again, lassie will ye be me bride?”_ she sang back and Fíli couldn’t help the excited laugh that escaped him.   
“You remember?”   
“I think so,” she nodded.   
“That’s fantastic!”   
“Um…I also remember a song, oh I can’t think of it now,” she frowned slightly though in the firelight he could see her eyes were sparkling with excitement. “Something about…blunting knives and bending forks?”   
“Yes!” Fíli exclaimed before he could stop himself. She seemed startled at his response and he took a deep breath to calm down before continuing. “That was in Bilbo’s house, after we set out on the quest.”   
“The quest for the Mountain?” she asked and Fíli nodded vigorously.   
“Do you remember anything from the quest?”   
At this her smile faded completely.   
“Not yet. I get these…these flashes, mostly of sounds or smells, but nothing I can make sense of…” she trailed off, her forehead crinkling into a deep frown and Fíli instantly backtracked.   
“It’s okay, it’ll come back in its own time.” He smiled softly and she smiled back, though it didn’t reach her eyes.   
“I had better get back to my brother,” he said, standing up from the table. “It was good to speak to you.”   
“You too,” she nodded. “Fíli?”   
“Yes?”   
“How is he? Kíli?”   
A little taken aback at her question, Fíli took a moment to answer. She hadn’t asked about Kíli so directly since before the battle.   
“He’s…he’s keeping busy. He’s been working mostly on the restoration.”   
Her gaze had a new firmness as she listened to his response, and he could tell that she saw right through his avoidance.   
“I hope he’ll be well,” she added.    
“I’ll make sure of it,” he promised before bidding her a good night and walking back towards the crowd.   
He picked his way through the bustling Men and Dwarves, searching for his brother, desperate to tell him the good news.   
_This could be exactly what he needs,_ he thought to himself. _A bit of hope._   
As soon as he spotted the younger prince, all trace of happiness faded from his thoughts. Kíli was speaking loudly and angrily to one the Men, swaying slightly on his feet and waving his drink clumsily, sloshing ale over himself, the ground, and, to Fíli’s horror, the man. Storming forward before the man could react to his now sodden trousers, Fíli grabbed Kíli by the upper arm and dragged him away, apologising profusely to the man and promising him no repeats of the incident. Before the man could respond, or Kíli could complain, Fíli had shoved him roughly out of the gathering crowd and back towards Mountain.   
“What in Durin’s name were you thinking?” he snapped at Kíli as soon as they were out of earshot from the crowds. “Causing a scene like that? When King Bard invited us all to celebrate with his people?”   
“‘King Bard’” Kíli mocked, his words slurring together horribly. “Never let it be known that _King Bard’s_ little party was almost ruined by a dirt-ridden midget like myself.”   
“What are you talking about?” Fíli flinched slightly at that word.   
“That’s what he called me, that man you so politely apologised to,” Kíli glared him, swaying dangerously on his feet so Fíli had to take his arm again.   
“I’m sorry about that Kíli but it’s no excuse to make such a fool of yourself.”   
“Fool!” Kíli exclaimed, his face contorting in anger. “That’s exactly what I am! That’s what he should have called me! A fool who chose to love a woman who barely remembers his name! Who thought a daughter of Man could love a Dwarf! Vana – no – _Cairi_ – probably thinks I’m a dirt-ridden midget as well -”   
“Kíli!” Fíli silenced him with a sharp shout worthy of their mother. “That’s enough. You’re drunk, you don’t know what you’re saying. Now let’s get you inside and sleep it off so you don’t embarrass yourself further!”   
He shoved Kíli in front of him, only for Kíli to trip over his own feet and end up face down in the dirt. Fíli watched with a sigh, waiting for Kíli to get up again, but instead he saw his little brother’s shoulders start to shake, small sobs beginning to erupt out of him.   
“Kee?” He knelt down, placing a comforting hand on his back, but Kíli’s sobs only grew louder. “Oh, Kee, come on.”   
He took hold of his brother’s arms and pulled him to his feet, lifting one arm over his shoulder to support his weight. Kíli’s head was bowed as he stumbled along next to him, sniffling pathetically.   
“Kíli,” Fíli said softly. “It’s all right.”   
“I’m s-sorry,” Kíli sobbed.   
“Don’t worry about it. You’re allowed to cry. Just let it all out and you’ll feel much better.”   
“N-no wonder she doesn’t l-love me…” he mumbled and Fíli thought his heart would break.   
“She does Kee, I know she does. She just doesn’t remember yet. But she is remembering things! That’s what I came to tell you.”   
He may as well have been talking to one of the ponies. Kíli didn’t even seem to hear him and Fíli gave up hoping for that night.   
“I’ll tell you tomorrow,” he said. “When you’ve slept it off.”   
“Sleep,” Kíli sniffed. “Sleep is good.”   
“Everything will look better in the morning.”   
“Mmhm…”   
Fíli didn’t get another word out of him that night.

_ Cairi _

I watched as Fíli left, thinking hard about our words, both his and mine, said and unsaid. I did remember singing that song and eating apples and bread, but I’d left out the part where I’d been singing with a certain young, dark-haired Dwarf. I couldn’t remember where we had been, or why we were there until Fíli had told me, but I remembered the smell of the campfire and the damp clothes and the song. Fíli and Kíli could both carry a tune well enough; Fíli had a surprisingly light voice and could easily find the right key and harmonise. Kíli’s voice was rougher, more brusque, and he had a knack for getting the gravelly sounds and the boisterous rhythm that covered up a lack for actual finesse. More than that, I remembered enjoying hearing it. It bothered me, the feeling that there was more to it than that.   
I hadn’t seen him since before the fight at the camp when I’d blanked him. His face still stuck in my mind from that day – the utter loss of what to do or say, the fear in his eyes as he clearly fought to find the right thing. At the time it had only irritated me, but now I realised that he believed I needed him.   
It made no sense – a Dwarf, and a _prince_ come to that, care for a human traveller’s wellbeing. I’d seen Dwarves of course, on the road from time to time, but they rarely travelled as far east as we were. Those I had met largely kept to themselves, speaking in their rough, coarse language and to us only if they needed. Humans were rarely much better, as I recalled, mistrusting them and purposely keeping any weapons at hand whenever they were around. I had been scared of them when I had first seen them as a child, and even as I grew older I couldn’t help the slight unease I always felt when I heard them speaking in that language or eyeing us reproachfully. So what could possibly have made these Dwarves decide to take me in? Made them care so much?

“Cairi!”   
I was knocked out of my thoughts as a pair of excited hands locked around my arm and turned to see Tilda grinning at me.   
“Come and sing for us again! Please, please-please-please!” She tugged on my arm with surprising strength and I felt that I had little choice in the matter.   
“All right, all right,” I laughed, swallowing the last of my ale. “I’m coming!”   
She let out a little squeal of delight and I let her drag me back to where the other children were waiting. At my approach, many of the adults turned their attention to me, and I was relieved to see many anticipating smiles greet me.   
“Are you going to sing again?” One of the other girls asked in a high-pitched squeal.   
“Sing, sing, sing!” one of the boys chanted and soon all of them were joining in.   
“All right! Enough!” I waved my arms sharply through the air and they immediately fell into silence. I laughed at their wide eyes and hopeful faces and shook my head slightly. “Gods, you are all far too excited. I’ll sing, but only if it’s something a little quieter. Agreed?”   
I was answered by a series of nods and moved to sit on a nearby empty table, resting my feet on a wooden stool.   
“Now then…” I thought hard through the vast myriad of songs I had stored safely inside my head, like a library gathers scrolls or an armoury gathers weapons, until I had one selected. “This is in the old language of the south,” I told them. “I learned it growing up, at least I learned many of the songs. This one’s about a man who longs for his lost love.”   
The wide eyes grew even wider as the children all listened in silence and I glanced at the adults, many of whom were watching with a sort of curiosity tinted with apprehension. Many of them wouldn’t be too keen to hear a language they didn’t understand, but still I hoped they would appreciate the song nonetheless, as many audiences had before. I took a deep breath and began to sing. 

_“Chaidh mi 'n-dé dhan choile chailtainn_ _  
Shireadh chnóthan airson bladh  
Ach 's e bh'air a h-uile geug ach  
D'aodann-sa gam thriall.  
Chaidh mi 'n-dé gu traigh a'mhaoraich  
Lón de choilleagan a bhuain  
Nochd a h-ulle slige neamhnaid  
D'ailleachd-sa a luaidh  
  
“Chaidh mi stagh dhan aon taigh-ósda  
Son do sgiúrsadh as mo cheann  
H-ulle glainne thog mi thaom do  
Mhaiseachd aist' na deann.  
Chiaon mi tràth a-raoir dhan leabaidh  
Thusa ruagadh as le suain  
Ach cha tug thu cead dhomh cadal  
Gus an dèanainn duan  
  
“Dh'larrain-sa bhith saor od thóireadh  
Ach gu bheil sinn roinnt o chéiil'   
Do chumadh bhith an àit' do shamhla  
Agam bhios an fhèill  
Dh'fhàg thu mi 'nam bhaothair górach  
Bódhradh chàirdean le do chilú  
Nuair a thig thu chi lad nach eil  
Mearachd ann am fhiu  
  
“Chi lad sgurr a' danns le saobh-shruth  
Famh is iolair' anns an ruidhl'  
Stamh gu caomh ag altram súbh-làir  
Mireadh mu an súil.  
Chi lad mis' is thusa súgradh  
Bil ri bil ar an-anaill aoint'  
Cniadachadh mar seo gu sior le  
Chéile b' e ar maoin.” _

By the time I finished there was utter silence throughout the valley, save the crackling of the flowers and a few hushed gasps. The children were staring up at me with eyes wide as ever, and I glanced up to find that many of the adults had similar expressions. I cast my eyes over the crowd, feeling my face flushing as outbreaks of murmuring began to break out of the silence, followed by a slightly hesitant but loud applause. Still I couldn’t help but spot several individuals, Men and Dwarves alike, sending strange looks in my direction.   
_It may have been too soon,_ I thought. _To use a language none of them understand – I don’t even understand half of it._   
When the children began to regain the use of their words and begged for more I decided to go back to simply playing.

By the time the night was coming to an end there was a faint grey light on the horizon indicating the coming of dawn. The dwarves began to make their way back to the mountain, carrying as many of their plates, mugs, tables, chairs and barrels as they could while the men did the same. Whilst sorting plates and mugs into piles to be carried back I stopped to give a huge yawn.   
“You should be heading back to get some sleep,” Bard said to me, a sleeping Tilda in his arms.    
“I’m fine,” I replied, though it seemed to take an abnormally large effort just to smile. “I’ll just put these in the crates and fetch the fiddle back.”   
“Don’t be too long.” He returned my smile and turned to walk back to Dale. Tilda’s head lolled on his shoulder, dead to the world, and I smiled once more at the sight.   
Once the crate was full I carried it over to the huddle of others waiting to be delivered back to the city and set it down. In doing so I happened to catch a few words coming from a group of men nearby.   
“Seems redundant doesn’t it?” one said. “Pretending to make nice with these folk. It’s because of dwarves that we’re living in ruins instead of on the water where we belong.”   
“Would you rather go back to Lake-town?” another man asked. “Be back under the Master’s boot? I’d rather never see water again than go back to that.”   
“Aye, we were as near to slaves as we could get without being in chains.” That was a woman. I glanced round but recognised none of them.   
“That may be so,” the first man said. “But we’re fisherfolk born and bred. We shouldn’t be toiling away in dry fields. It’s not our nature.”   
“I don’t see what can be done about it,” the woman replied stonily.   
“Nothing o’ course!” the first man snapped. “But that doesn’t mean we should be allies with these…”   
“Careful what you say!” the second man warned in a lower voice. “You know the dwarves and their pride. Remember they’re the ones who gave us the treasure.”   
“Only after hundreds of our own died in a battle _they_ started! First the dragon and then those orcs!”   
“Come to think of it,” the woman added. “We heard nothing of those things until after that wizard turned up. You remember? He came charging in to the city the day before the battle, all ragged and dirty in his grey robes. And the next day we was all dying in the streets! Now, to me that’s too much of a coincidence.”   
“Aye, well, you know what they say of wizards. Meddlesome folk, wandering the world and stirring up trouble everywhere they go.”   
“I heard it was the wizard who sent Thorin Oakenshield to the Mountain in the first place. If he’d kept his nose out of it we might still have our homes.”   
“Aye, how do we know he didn’t lead them right to us?”   
“That’s exactly what happened. The orc leader was hunting those dwarves. That’s why they came to Lake-town in the first place!”   
“Those dwarves and that girl!”   
Amongst the turmoil of feelings and distorted images their words were causing in my mind, I suddenly froze. They could only mean me.   
“Aye, now there’s a strange one.”   
“A young woman travelling alone with a group of dwarves? There’s trouble and no mistake. Even for a vagabond.”   
I stopped pretending I couldn’t hear them and stared at them as they continued to speak about me but they didn’t even notice.   
“Did you hear she threatened poor old Prue?”   
“What? When was this?”   
“A few months back now. Prue said she found the girl slacking off her work and when she reminded her of her tasks the girl told her to remember how she killed all those orcs.”   
“Are you sure about this?”   
“You can ask Prue herself if you like.”   
“I don’t understand. King Bard seems to hold her in great regard. And his children love her.”   
“Well, then let me tell you this. When Prue fetched King Bard and told him what had happened he followed her back to the girl and when they arrived she was singing in her strange words, something Prue couldn’t understand. And the king’s eyes went all cloudy, and Prue said he seemed to outright forget why he was there. In the end it was Prue who was reprimanded, not her!”   
“Are you trying to say she’s cast some sort of spell on our king?”   
“Not Bard, surely!”   
“I’m just telling you what Prue told me.”   
“SHUT UP!” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them, but any morsel of rational thought was soon overcome by the sheer rage boiling over in my veins. The men and women all whipped round to look at me, eyes growing wide as they realised I’d heard everything. I began to slowly march towards them and to my ever growing disdain some of the men actually moved defensively in front of the women.   
“You know nothing!” I spat. “Of dwarves, of wizards or of your own kind it would seem. For that’s what I am! A daughter of Man! A descendant of the Northmen, _just like you!_ I don’t cast spells! I don’t seduce! I don’t threaten old women! I sing and I dance for money, that’s all. And there’s nothing wrong with that! You!” I pointed at them savagely, making several of them jump.   
“None of you know what it’s like! Not having a warm house to go back to at night! Living on your own wits for months on end! Never settling in one place, not belonging anywhere!”   
I paused, breathing heavily and lowering my finger.   
“You know nothing of wizards or dwarves or any other travelling folk. Don’t ever let me hear you speak of them again. And don’t you _dare_ let me hear you speak of me again.”   
With that, I stormed back to Dale, neither stopping nor slowing down until I was in my warm bed in the bastion, clutching the runestone tightly in my hand. Its weight kept me anchored, calmed my heart and helped me control my breathing until finally the anxiety lifted and I was able to fall asleep.   
It was only as my eyes were drifting shut that I realised I had left the fiddle out in the valley.    
  
  
  
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs:   
> Comin' Thro' The Rye - Robert Burns   
> Breisleach - Capercaillie


	9. The Return of the Beast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skipping forward again slightly...  
> As life in Erebor begins to get back on track a few old faces return to the scene, up to their old tricks...

_ Kíli _

As spring began to move into summer, Kíli thought Erebor was surprisingly cool. In Ered Luin they had been surrounded by mountains which had prevented the ever-present northern winds from growing too fierce, whilst being far enough west to ensure the sun lingered for longer during the day. Here though, they were exposed on the vast brown plains. The only upside was that they were far enough away from the sea that the winds consistently surrounding them weren’t as strong.   
It was all of little regard to him really; Kíli still spent the majority of his time in the depths of the mountain, throwing himself at any work he could find. After the fight with Dwalin, both Thorin and Fíli had come right out and ordered him not to work more than twelve hours a day, including breaks for meals. Every morning Fíli walked him to breakfast (even when Kíli had snuck out early his brother had only tracked him down and dragged him back, physically at one point) and every evening Thorin himself found him and brought him back for dinner. At some point during the day there was always someone who interrupted him to bring him lunch, sometimes under strict orders to watch him eat it before reporting back. The whole thing was just embarrassing, and Kíli had half a mind to shout himself hoarse at his brother and uncle for being so overbearing. Such behaviour, he knew, would only make it worse however, so he bore it with as little complaint as possible.   
Bilbo had left very early one April morning, and he almost managed to sneak away before the thirteen of them caught up to him in the entrance to the mountain. Bidding their burglar farewell had been a hard thing for all of them to do, but what surprised Kíli was his uncle’s reaction. Even Dwalin had shed a gruff tear or two but Thorin’s face had been as frozen as the statues far above their heads as he watched Bilbo’s silhouette, tiny compared with Gandalf’s tall pointed figure, fade into the distance. He didn’t see his uncle afterwards until supper that night, but his face still bore the same expression. Kíli shared a look with his brother but neither said a word.

Time went on and with every passing day the Mountain came further back to life. The forges were now fully repaired and running, and enough of the stairs and pulley systems had been repaired that the healing houses several floors up could be used again. Óin had overseen the conversion himself, and was now the official Chief Healer under the Mountain.   
Kíli had wanted to join Bofur and Bifur down in the mines for the repairs and examinations there but had been expressly forbidden by Thorin. Mines were far too dangerous for princes apparently. Still utterly refusing to join his brother in the general running of the kingdom, he found himself carrying out fairly mundane repairs in the living quarters with the reinforcements of Iron Hills builders. Most of them didn’t pay him too much mind, still very aware that he was their prince, but they were easy enough to work with, if a little stiffer than the workers he was used to from the Blue Mountains.

One morning in the middle of May, a guard intercepted them just as the three of them were leaving the dining hall.   
“My King,” he bowed low, his thick accent clearly identifying him as Iron Hills. “The wizard is here to see you. He says he found your missing ponies.”   
_Ponies…_   
Kíli hadn’t thought about those ponies in a long time, but he felt a slight thrill lace through his chest at the thought of Daisy, his old companion.   
Thoughts of Daisy, however, then lead to thoughts he would much rather forget.   
Nevertheless, the three of them raced down to the Entrance Hall, bursting through the open gateway, which was still being rebuilt and enforced. Standing at the gateway, however, was not Gandalf as Kíli had expected, but the twitchy and ever-scruffy Radagast.   
“Ah, good morning!” he said, giving them a lopsided bow. “Not to worry, I shan’t be long. Just wanted to make sure these beauties got home safely.”   
Kíli took in the sight before him as slowly as he could; all sixteen ponies stood before them, free of any tack or supplies they had once worn, grazing absent-mindedly at the short grass before them and occasionally glancing at the passing Dwarves staring at them. At the head of them – and Kíli almost laughed out loud at the sight – was Angus, indignant as always as he tossed his head at Kíli with a loud snort.   
“I don’t believe it!” he cried, jogging down towards Daisy who looked up from her grazing only long enough to give him an affectionate nibble. He ran his hands along her neck and back, as if to reassure himself that she was real. She was surprisingly fat, as they all were, given the distance they had travelled, but she didn’t seem to have any injuries or ailments, other than overlong hooves perhaps. Beside him Fíli had his hand gently wrapped around Minty’s face, cooing at her and kissing her nose, while Thorin sent the guard back to the Mountain to fetch the rest of the company.   
“Where did you find them?” he asked Radagast.   
“Oh it wasn’t me really,” he said. “Beorn found them wondering around the foothills of the Misty Mountains. He sent a message to me with one of my little birds and I decided I’d best escort them back. There were one or two unpleasant dynamics going on between the boys.” He shot a wary glance at Angus, who was tossing his head and pawing the ground impatiently. He kept snorting at Kíli, as if it was his fault he was in a bad mood, until Kíli finally realised the beast was looking for Vana.   
As if reading his mind, his uncle stepped in closer to him, speaking in a low voice.   
“You should take him to her. She’d want to see him safe.”   
“She might not recognise him,” said Kíli.   
“But then again she might,” Thorin reasoned, looking at him carefully. “Which scares you more?”   
The directness of his question took Kíli by surprise and he reflexively scowled at his uncle even as he considered. What if she did remember Angus? And what if remembering Angus then lead to her remembering…well, anything else?

_ Cairi _

 “If you please Sire,” Prue’s drawl drew our attention from breakfast. “Bill’s saying there’s a Dwarf party approaching the gate.   
_Bill,_ I thought to myself. _The short, grey-haired guard who’s surprisingly keen with a bow for a man who can barely hold a shovel._   
“How many?” Bard asked.   
“Just two, Sire.”   
“That’s hardly a party,” he muttered as he got to his feet.   
“But ‘e thinks tis the princes Sire,”   
My head jerked up at that. I hadn’t seen Fíli since the feast in spring, and Kíli…  
I turned to Bard to find him looking at me with thinly veiled concern.   
“Maybe you should go see him?” Sigrid suggested softly and I turned to look at her. Her face gave nothing away, but her eyes were kind and encouraging.   
“I like the blonde prince,” Tilda said randomly. “I thought he had the nicest hair.”   
“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” Bard said to me but I shook my head.   
“I’ll come.”

The walk down to the gates was hot, the crowded streets nearly stifling with the heat of the sun on the stones and the subsequent body heat emanating off of every man, woman and  child in the streets. Bard led us through, accompanied by his son and two guards as well as me, and I tried to get a grip on the nerves that always reared their ugly head when I thought of the dwarves.   
My parchments had grown into two fairly substantial piles in the cupboard beside the desk in my bedchamber. Cairi’s still far outweighed Vana’s, but the memories from the years after the attack on my camp were growing clearer. I had lived in Ered Luin, with the dwarves. In fact, I had lived in the fortress itself. I could remember walking the corridors to the library or down to the sparring grounds or to the meadows. I remembered the ponies grazing and galloping about and I remembered caring for a number of them, fixing their shoes and treating their ailments.   
I could also remember sleeping under the stars and riding in the rain, through forests and over hills. I could remember having company, but never faces. Sometimes I recalled certain things being said, or moments when sounds and sights that had made me happy or scared, but as soon as I tried to see the surrounding details my mind failed and everything went blank again. I had learned that I shouldn’t try too hard, that I should just let the memory unfold at its own pace, but it was hard, gods it was hard.   
“I can almost hear you thinking,” Bain remarked with a small smile and I returned it, trying to mask my unease.   
“I’m just trying to think what to say to them.”   
“‘Hello’ would be a good start,” he quipped and I shook my head at him.   
“You’re hilarious. I meant I still don’t really remember anything from when they knew me, at least nothing clear. I don’t want to disappoint them.”   
“Well, there’s not a lot you can do about it. But you’re trying your best, just tell them that.”   
“Is that wise? It might give them hope where there is none. I may never remember a thing.”   
“I think you will, you remembered everything from before didn’t you?”   
“Yes, after almost dying,” I raised my eyebrows sceptically and he grinned again.   
“Well we’ll call that plan B.”

When we reached the gate the guards immediately stood to attention at the sight of their King.   
“Sire,” one of them stepped forward. “The princes of Erebor are just outside.”   
“Please let them in,” Bard said, polite but authoritative. “Don’t leave them standing out there.”   
“Yes Sire,” the guard said and turned to his companions. “Open the gate.”   
The gates had been repaired well enough, but decades of neglect meant that they gave deafening creaks of protest when they were forced to do their job. They opened only one gate to reveal the two Dwarves approaching. I saw Kíli first, his dark hair billowing slightly in the winds that frequently swept the valley. He held a short length of rope in his left hand, leading a plump, dark grey pony, and on the other side was Fíli, who smiled immediately upon seeing me. I would have smiled back, but my attention was drawn to the pony, who was suddenly snorting loudly and tottering on the tips of his hooves at the sight of me.

_ Kíli _

All the way down to the city Kíli’s mind was racing. His brother’s reassurances went all but ignored as he tried to plan out what he could say to her. He hadn’t seen her since the feast, he couldn’t bear to. He hadn’t spoken to her since before she left for Dale that winter’s day that felt like years ago now. She still didn’t remember him – she couldn’t, or she would have been to see him by now. He also really couldn’t be bothered dealing with Bard. The mere sight of him only made him angry.   
The gate began to open before they even spoke to the guards, who he reasoned must have a clear view across the valley, and then suddenly there she was. She came out with Bard, practically hiding behind him at first, followed by his son and their guard. He couldn’t help but notice her hair; even from the distance he was at he could see it had been cut again. He knew it was nothing personal, but it still made him sad. She had such beautiful hair.   
“Angus!” she cried before Kíli could even open his mouth and his mind was wiped completely blank when she sprinted away from Bard and down the hill towards them. With a savage toss of his head, the dark grey beast yanked the rope from Kíli’s hands and cantered excitedly towards her, tossing his head again and neighing loudly. Her mouth opened in a delighted laugh as she bounded up to the pony and wrapped her arms around his neck.   
“You demon! What are you doing here?” She buried her nose in his fur and he tilted his large head to nibble on her shoulder.   
He couldn’t believe it; he’d spent the better part of an hour trying to think of the best way to explain this to her and she remembered. Just like that she remembered – but how much? She hadn’t said anything to him, she only had eyes for the pony. Did she remember exactly how she came to own Angus? Did she remember any of their times riding together?   
“Go,” his brother urged softly from next to him. Swallowing his nerves, Kíli took a few tentative steps towards her before he spoke.   
“Radagast found him,” he said and she looked up at him as if she’d forgotten he was there. Her beautiful green eyes were looking blankly at him, yet again, but before the pains in his chest that usually followed could start she did something he never expected – she smiled at him. It was only a small smile, a mere curve of the lips, but it made his heart leap.   
“Kíli,” she said his name slowly and clearly, as if testing the sound of it. He kept stock still, as if he was staring into the face a bird or a rabbit that was trying to figure out if he was a threat or not.   
“You…” she looked from him to Angus and then back, stroking the pony’s neck fondly. “You gave him to me, didn’t you?”   
He stared wide-eyed at her for a moment before remembering that he needed to answer her.   
“Uh – yes, I did.” He risked another few steps towards her. “When he was a foal.”   
“He’s Minty’s foal,” she said. “Fíli’s pony.” They weren’t questions. They were facts from her head. She knew what she was talking about.   
“Yes, that’s right.” Kíli only just held back the grin threatening to break out over his face, settling instead for a small smile, matching hers. “But he wasn’t the first pony you rode.”   
“I rode when I was a child,” she told him.   
“I meant in Ered Luin,” he clarified carefully. “The first time you rode one of our ponies -”   
“Daisy!” she exclaimed with a smile. “I remember. She was yours wasn’t she?”   
“She still is,” he replied, feeling easier with every moment she kept smiling. “All the ponies are back. It seems Angus decided to take charge after we lost them.”   
“How did we…?” she began to ask but shook her head and turned back to her furry demon. “Never mind. Of course you took charge, didn’t you?”   
She stroked his dark muzzle with her knuckles and he bent his neck to rub his face against her arm.   
“Why did you give him to me?”   
He was caught off guard by that. Was she asking because she couldn’t remember, or because she was curious about him? It was impossible to tell, and it saddened him to think he could no longer read her as he once could.   
“I gave him to you to cheer you up,” he answered carefully. “I thought you could train him yourself.”   
“Cheer me up?” she frowned a little, but when Angus snorted again, drawing her attention back to him, she smiled again. “Well it definitely worked. We had a great time together, didn’t we?” She rubbed his nose fondly and Angus let out a noise that Kíli could have sworn was a purr.   
“You did well,” he said. “Most trainers would have given up before he was two.” He was close enough to lay a hand on Angus’ rump and when he did the beast stomped his foot and seemed to growl. A laugh erupted out of her that shook all of Kíli’s defences and made him grin like the cat that stole the cream.   
“I think…” she murmured, still looking at Angus, stroking his face and neck. “I remember taking him for his first ride outside the mountains. You were there weren’t you?”   
“Yes, I was.” He remembered it well, that hunting trip they took. Being stuck in the rain and sleeping in a cave with her.   
“And Fíli too?”   
“Yes.”   
“And we had apples and bread for dinner, because of the storm.”   
He nodded, not trusting himself to speak without pouring out every detail of that night. _And we sang, and you sang, and you slept close to us so you wouldn’t catch cold, and it was the hardest thing I’d ever done not to take you in my arms and kiss you, regardless of my brother.  
_ No, he didn’t want to frighten her; this was the first time in months she had spoken to him properly.   
“Kíli?”   
He blinked slightly. _Had she been talking? Did she ask something?  
_ “I’m sorry, what?” he asked stupidly. She regarded him curiously for a moment before smiling once more – and in so doing cutting him to the core.   
“Thank you for bringing him back.”   
“You’re welcome,” he nodded. He wanted to keep talking, he wanted her to remember more, but words gave way to fear and he couldn’t bring himself to risk frightening her again. Then, to his eternal irritation, Bard approached them.   
“There’s space in the stables if you’d like to keep him here? I’m sure we can find some tack for him.”   
“Oh there’s no need for that,” she said, to both of their surprise and began to untie the loosely improvised rope that Kíli had battled onto his head. “A head collar and some leather reins will do just fine, but rope will rub his skin.”   
“You always rode with full tack before,” Kíli said before he could stop himself. She only shrugged.   
“I didn’t know I could do without then, but I can. My father taught me how.” The light in her eyes faded at the mention of her long dead father, and she cleared her throat before turning to Bard. “Can we go back now?”   
“Of course,” he nodded and Kíli’s heart sank, torn between the urge to disembowel the king of Dale and the urge to trudge back up to his bedchamber, crawl under the covers and never come out again. Before he could choose, she turned to him one more time.   
“Kíli, can I ask you one more thing?”   
“Oh,” he uttered like an idiot, before clearing his throat and trying again. “Of course.”   
“Why did you give him to me? You said to cheer me up, but why?”   
Oh Mahal, not this. He couldn’t tell her this. She’d never speak to him again.   
“You…you were being given a hard time by some of the other Dwarves. I thought you needed a project to take your mind off it.” It wasn’t exactly a lie, he assured himself.   
She seemed to believe him as she nodded.   
“Thank you,” she said quietly before turning from him and tucking her arm around Angus’ neck. She clicked her tongue and the pony walked with her, gently guided by her arm under his neck, back towards Dale. Bard nodded cordially to Kíli before turning to walk next to her and he watched them go with a heavy heart.   
The last time he had witnessed this he had been distraught and stressed from the battle. Now, he only felt a grim sort of acceptance.   
“Kíli,” Fíli said softly as he came up next to him. “Go after her, please?”   
“No,” he said for the thousandth time. “She’s in a good place now. I won’t ruin it for her.”   
“She’ll remember everything eventually Kee.”   
“Not because of me she won’t. I won’t put her through all that again.”   
Fíli only sighed and Kíli, beyond sick of this conversation, turned to walk back to the mountain.

_ Cairi/Vana  _

I did my best to keep my breathing even as I left Angus in the stable much later. It was well into the afternoon now, and I’d spent the best part of the day lounging in the stable yard with Angus, trying to remember everything I’d taught him.   
The memories were coming back in storms, like pages ripped from the safe confines of a book and strung on the wind. At first I could focus them on Angus, on our training sessions and our rides, but now that I was walking back up to the bastion, I didn’t have a centre point for them anymore, and my head was starting to spin with the ferocity of it all.  
I remembered Kíli’s long, dark hair blowing behind him as he galloped ahead of me, shortly before I overtook him with Angus letting out a victorious neigh. I remembered Fíli gently taking my hand to pull me onto his own pony in the days before Angus was born. I remembered riding through the trees to the cliffs before the storm, the archery targets set up in the southern end of the meadow for me to practice from horseback, practicing shooting in the woods or in the sparring grounds, Kíli giving me a wooden sword that was too heavy so I could try and knock down a stack of straw, Fíli sparring with me, his two short swords far faster than my own skinny arms could keep up with, laughter and singing and dancing, out in the woods and inside the mountain. The Dwarves enjoyed when I played, once I realised I could, Fíli would play with me sometimes, taking his time to pick up the tune before joining in. Kíli would occasionally, but he preferred to listen, lacking the discipline, though not the talent, to be a good player. He loved to listen to me play; he would sit back and smile.   
I remembered the comments from the other Dwarves, about my appearance, namely my skinny limbs and flat chest, or my lack of beard. I remembered being tripped in the tavern while dancing – though I also remember flooring them all (quite literally sometimes) in the drinking.   
I had been happy; on guard and all too aware of the race distinction, but happy all the same.   
There was so much traffic in my head I barely noticed when I reached the bastion and came across Prue and Sigrid in the hall.   
“Where you been then?” Prue demanded in her annoyingly haughty drone. “The princesses and I ‘ave been on our feet all day since the King come ‘ome without you.”   
“It’s all right Cairi,” Sigrid spoke over Prue, her kind face filling with concern. I supposed I must have looked distressed, so I tried to smile.   
“I’m sorry, I -”   
“Da told us what happened,” she assured me. “Don’t worry about the cleaning, we got it all done. Will you be joining us for dinner?”   
“Actually I, uh -” I grappled for words under Prue’s glare. “I’m not hungry right now. I just need to…to think…” _Though that seems an impossible feat right now._ Sigrid looked on with a sort of concerned understanding and nodded.   
“That’s all right. We can save you some and you can have it later.”   
“Oh can we now?” Prue grunted and I nearly ran down up the stairs as she ranted. “An’ I suppose I’m expected to make it all?”   
“I can make it if you like,” I heard Sigrid say with derision.   
“No, dear, that’s not what I mean’,” Prue began to say but I heard no more as I shut myself in my room. I locked the door and headed straight for my desk, wrenching open the drawer and pulling out my notes. Dipping the quill in ink, I wrote so feverishly quickly that the scratching was deafening, the ink smudging and I even punctured a few holes in the parchment, but it didn’t matter. I needed to get everything out before my head exploded.

The days were nearing their longest, but still the sun was down before I stopped writing. My hand ached, my wrist ached, my entire right arm ached, and if that was an ache then my head was positively throbbing.   
It wasn’t everything, nowhere near. I still couldn’t remember the quest, nor the events leading up to it, but I remembered the first years; the unease I could feel emanating off everyone around me, save the Dwarves who had taken me in. Thorin had made me nervous, mostly because I found out he was a King, but never threatened. Dis had utterly terrified me at first, and even as I grew to know her I was always very aware of her status. Fíli had never made me feel less than comfortable, and Kíli… Kíli had been like coming up for air. I remembered meeting him now, noticing at first his smile, so eager and genuine but at the same time, cheeky and mischievous, like he knew something I didn’t. I had seen it again earlier today, and it was still just as heartening.   
Dwalin was also frightening at first, but when I prove myself worthy of it, his respect for me seemed set in stone and he became incredibly friendly. And Balin was kind, that I could tell almost instantly, but as well as that he was wise and noble and I was glad to have earned his friendship as well.   
All of that was well needed up against the stream of misjudgement and sometimes downright nastiness of many other Dwarves.   
Completely exhausted, mentally and physically, I didn’t even remove my clothes before I went to bed, only my shoes. Yet, even as I lay there with my eyes closed my mind still trundled on, combing through every memory it could find, trying to recall the details of every face and every word I’d encountered. The first year of my stay seemed as good a place as any to start, so I there I began. The first meetings of the royal family, the tour of the mountain, discovering I could ride, exploring the hills and discovering I could sing, Dis insisting on buying me new clothes so I could attend dinners, teaching me their customs so I could attend feasts as a royal guests, trying to train myself to ignore all the sideways glances and the rude comments.   
By the time I reached my sixth month in the mountain I finally managed to succumb to sleep.

I awoke ensnared in tangles of sheets and clothes, my hair stuck to my face which was drenched with sweat, some of it falling into my mouth as I gasped, my chest heaving with the effort of breathing.   
“Cairi!” A sharp voice called outside my door, followed by a few swift knocks. I opened my mouth to speak, to tell them to go, but my voice was hoarse and all that came out was a cracked gasp. The door opened and Bard entered, his dark hair sticking out at odd angles and his clothes rumpled from being pulled on in haste.   
“What is it?” he asked, his face contorting into a worried frown. “You were screaming.”   
That explained my voice. I tried to breathe, tried to think, tried to remember what I had been dreaming of.   
_Hard hands pinning me down and cruel voices in my ear. The clawing dread in the pit of my stomach at what was to come. My head ringing with pain and the taste of blood in my mouth. And then came a pounding on the door, and a voice sent from the heavens themselves.  
_ “Kíli,” I finally breathed.  “Kíli will come.”   
“Kíli?” Bard frowned even harder.   
“Kíli,” I repeated. “I need…Kíli will come, Kíli will save me.” I cradled my head in my hands, drawing my knees up to my chin. I just needed to wait. He always came in the end, he was always there when I needed him. He would come.

_ Kíli  _

The loud banging on the door woke him from his fitful sleep. It had taken him a bloody age to finally fall asleep, trying to quiet the feeling that something wasn’t right. Like he’d forgotten something important or was missing something. He had finally fallen asleep and now all his efforts had been for naught.   
“Yes!” he shouted angrily. “I’m coming!” Glancing out of the window, he could tell it was still dark. It obviously wasn’t Fíli come to tell him off for oversleeping, but he was too grumpy to be curious. Pulling on his trousers, he tied them loosely and wrenched the door open.   
“What?” he demanded to a very confused-looking guard.   
“I’m sorry for the disturbance my Lord, but the Prince of Dale has ridden to the mountain and is in the hall as we speak demanding to see you.”   
At first, Kíli thought he might still be dreaming. He frowned and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. Bain of Dale had never even spoken to him directly. Despite the fact that they’d survived an attack by orcs and a dragon together, he couldn’t be sure if he could even pick the boy out of a crowd.   
“Bain?” he asked without thinking and tried again. “The Prince of Dale’s here? Did he say why?”   
“Only that you had to come at once, that she needed you,” the guard said carefully. “I tried to tell him he couldn’t just arrive uninvited in the middle of the night, prince or no, but -” He was cut off as Kíli’s mind suddenly clicked.   
“Tell him I’ll be straight down!” he told the guard sharply before slamming the door in his face. He finished dressing faster than he’d ever done in his life. There was only one possible reason for Bain bothering him as he did and he couldn’t believe he hadn’t realised until now – Vana.   
_Cairi!_ He reminded himself instinctively, but he hadn’t the time to worry about that now. He pulled on his boots but left his coat and his weapons behind. There was no time for all of that. He sprinted down into the entrance hall and found Bain pacing the floor, ignoring the dozen guards watching him carefully with their hands on their axes. As soon as he spotted Kíli he stopped.   
“Da – I mean, King Bard asked me to send a messenger but I wanted to come myself.”   
“What’s happened?” he asked roughly.   
“We all heard her screaming and Da went to see what was wrong. He thinks it was just a nightmare, but we can’t get her to calm down. She won’t let any of us touch her and she keeps calling your name.”   
Bain’s face was already full of worry but it seemed to worsen with the look in Kíli’s eyes. He knew exactly what was wrong, and it was what he had been afraid of. She was remembering, just not the parts she’d rather forget.   
What was it she had said to him back in Bag End?   
_‘I forget the entire first sixteen years of my life and yet the one night I actually want to forget is the memory that will stick.’  
_ “Take me to her,” he said simply and Bain nodded without question. Yes, Kíli definitely liked him more than his father. 

“Bain!” Bard’s angry hiss greeted them first as they entered the bastion. “I asked you to send a messenger!”   
“I had to go myself, Da,” Bain hissed back. “It was too important!”   
They were all waiting in the hall at the foot of the stairs, Bard, Sigrid and little Tilda. Tilda looked as if she had been crying and Sigrid was pale, her arms wrapped firmly around her little sister’s shoulders.   
It hadn’t occurred to Kíli just how much Bard’s children must have grown to care for her. In different circumstances he might appreciate it more. Before Bard could argue again Kíli interrupted him.   
“Where is she?” He hadn’t meant it to sound as threatening as it did, and Bard certainly noticed by the look he gave him.   
“She’s in her room. Third door on the right upstairs.”   
Before Kíli could move past him, the bargeman stepped in front of him.   
“She’s very upset, I wouldn’t want her condition worsened.”   
“Don’t you dare try to speak to me about her,” Kíli growled, unable to resist clenching his fists. “I was there for her long before you ever were.”   
Bard glared at him fiercely for a moment before he seemed to concede. With a stiff nod, stepped aside and Kíli paid him no further mind as he made his way up the stairs.   
He entered the room slowly, his stomach churning with the mix of memories flooding his mind; the times in Ered Luin he had come to comfort her, staying up with her all night talking or just holding her; after the battle when the same actions scared her or upset her.

The room was dark except for the pale moonbeams flooding through the window and the single candle that had been lit next to the bed. Vana was sitting up, the blankets curled around her in a nest, her legs drawn up to her chin with her arms wrapped around them. Kíli recognised her efforts to feel safer well, and the old protective surge he had been trying so hard to suppress reignited in his chest.   
She watched him closely as he came in, her face oddly calm though her eyes were wide with the fearful expression Kíli had so often vowed to banish.   
“You came?” Her voice was slightly raspy – she had been crying.   
“Bain came to fetch me,” he answered. “He said you had a nightmare.”   
“And you actually came?” she repeated.   
“Of course I did,” he said, his fingers gripping the edge of the door hard enough to leave dents. “Do you want me to leave?”   
She stared at him for many long moments that may as well have lasted hours until, much to Kíli’s surprise, she shook her head.   
“Will you stay with me?”   
He could not have asked for six more welcome words. His heart hammered in his chest as he nodded and gently shut the door. Slowly, he made his way over to her, feeling as though it was their first night in Rivendell all over again.   
Mahal, how long had it been since he was this close to her? Since they had been in such an intimate setting? There were a thousand ways he could ruin this moment, and each and every one of them thundered through his mind as he slowly took a seat at the foot of the bed.   
“Do you want to tell me what it was about?” he asked gently, gripping the blanket between his fingers in an effort to stop his hands shaking.   
Her eyes grew wide and for a moment he regretted asking and immediately prepared himself to be thrown out but instead, to his utter shock, she smiled slightly.   
“You saved me,” she whispered so softly he barely heard her. “They were going to… And you saved me.”   
She gazed at him and he gazed back, barely processing her words properly. She was looking at him almost as she used to and he could barely believe it was happening after so long. Slowly, he nodded.   
“Oh gods,” she gasped, and to his horror he could see fresh tears brimming in her eyes. “It was real? It was all real?”   
“You put up an extremely good fight,” he said, keeping his voice as level as he could even as he ached to touch her. “I heard you shouting from the floor below, and then I couldn’t open the door. I had to break it down. I wish I’d gotten there sooner but -”   
He was cut off as she suddenly leant towards him and wound her arms around his neck.   
“Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”   
Unable to answer, unable to even breathe in case he inhaled her scent once more, he stayed as still as possible until he couldn’t resist any longer and slowly wrapped an arm around her waist. He breathed a sigh of relief when she didn’t pull away – in fact she actually held him tighter.   
“Kíli,” she gasped and he could hear in her voice that she was crying. “I was so frightened.”   
“I know, I know,” he said, letting his other hand rest soothingly on her back. “You’re safe here, I promise. Do you remember what happened after?”   
“You stayed with me,” she answered. “You washed my face and held me and you stayed with me all night.”   
“I stayed until you fell asleep,” he corrected her gently. “Then I left you with my mother to go down to your attackers. I witnessed their execution.”   
He felt her stiffen against him and instinctively held her tighter. He wasn’t ready to let go of her just yet. “They’re long dead, and they can’t hurt you anymore. I came back straight after and I stayed until you woke up.”   
“And I asked you to teach me how to fight.” Her answer was automatic and Kíli couldn’t help but grin.   
“You remember?”   
“Yes,” she said and pulled away. His arms immediately went to his sides as she leant back slightly and he waited as patiently as possible for her to speak again.   
“I didn’t want to feel so weak and pathetic. I felt so isolated, like I had a target painted on my back, and I wanted to know that I could do something about it if it happened again.”   
“I understood that,” he replied. “And I was pretty impressed in the end. You took to it a lot faster than I expected.”   
“I used to play-fight with the other children in the caravan,” she said, a small smile returning to her face. “We only had about three or four wooden swords between seven of us, eight when my brother was old enough to join in, so a lot of the time we had to use our fists.”   
“That explains the punch in the jaw you gave me,” he chuckled.   
She frowned slightly before, to his delight, her face broke into a grin and she buried her face in her hands.   
“I remember that!” she cried, her voice muffled by her hands before she raised her face up slightly to look at him. “In my defence you were tickling me something savage.”   
“Yes, I was,” he laughed, elated at her expression. Finally, they were both starting to feel the old comfort and ease in each other’s presence that they had been missing for the past months. She smiled at him once more, her eyes seeming to refill with their old warmth.   
“We were good friends weren’t we?” she asked.   
The question felt like a great boulder dropped onto Kíli’s shoulders. His next words would have to be chosen carefully.   
_No!_ he wanted to say. _We were friends, yes, but we were lovers too. We were Ones. You’re_ still _my One, even if you don’t know it, and I will love you even when they’ve long buried me in the stone._  
Instead, he simply answered: “Yes, we were.”

_ Thorin _

Thorin was exhausted. That seemed to be the repeating pattern of his life now. He woke up exhausted, he ran the kingdom all day exhausted and at night he went to bed, exhausted. The Mountain was in constant requirement of attention and trying to balance the needs of his workers with the schedule of work requirements in order for his people to resettle as well as continuing to teach his oldest nephew whilst trying to keep the younger in line – it felt like a constant juggling act where there was no relief.   
After the dwarves had moved permanently into the Mountain in the winter, Dáin had returned to the Iron Hills with the majority of his soldiers, leaving behind only those who either chose to stay or who Thorin required to maintain the repairs. He had initially left his son, Thorin II behind as well and Thorin had come to find his cousin’s son an invaluable ally. The dwarf-lord was young, even younger than Kíli, but he was very keen-minded and driven and Thorin was grateful to have him. He got along well with Fíli, though they had very different views on how to get things done. While Thorin II was more concerned with schedules and deadlines for the repairs, Fíli was always conscious of the needs of the workers and their safety. Together they made a good team, but even with their help Thorin was still exhausted.   
So when young Thorin came to him to inform him he had received a raven from his father telling him he was needed back in the Iron Hills, King Thorin couldn’t help but be very disappointed. Disappointment turned to near outrage when he then found out that Dáin’s younger brother, Fáin, was to take his place. He hadn’t seen or spoken to Fáin at all since the incident in Ered Luin over a decade ago except once; Fáin had returned to Ered Luin well over a year ago now to attend a meeting in which he had told Thorin, with no subtlety as to his thoughts on the matter, that the Iron Hills would not lend their forced to his doomed cause of reclaiming the Mountain.   
No, Thorin was not at all keen to be working in such close quarters with that dwarf again, but at present there was very little he could do. Until his people from Ered Luin returned, he needed all the help he could get.   
He had received a raven from Dis a week after the spring feast King Bard had thrown, telling him she was making all the arrangements to join him there and she was hoping to bring some two thousand dwarves with her. They would travel in a number of smaller groups and she would have to travel with the final group, but she was hoping to be with them before Durin’s Day the following year. She hadn’t mentioned Fíli or Kíli to him, but he knew Fíli had been in contact with her.

As for Kíli…Thorin wasn’t entirely sure what to do with him. After the incident with Dwalin he had finally put his foot down and it seemed to be keeping him out of trouble at least, except for the spectacle he had made of himself at the spring feast. Always there was a darkness in his younger nephew’s eyes though, and he knew that the only way to re-kindle the light that once shone there was to bring his One back. He had seen the same thing when Nalí died; his sister had seemed to fade, and for weeks he could barely get a word out of her. The only things that had kept her grounded were her sons. For Kíli, his ground source seemed to be the Mountain, even as he spoke of it and looked upon it with more than a hint of resentment. He worked himself into the ground and in the back of his mind Thorin worried he would make himself sick or worse. Yet another reason he was not looking forward to Fáin’s arrival.   
Kíli was still convinced, to this day, that the dwarf-lord had been responsible for Vana’s attack, and he could only imagine the trouble that would occur given Kíli’s current state of mind.   
So when Kíli didn’t turn up to breakfast one morning, Thorin immediately assumed the worst and was about to send Fíli to go and find him when the guard informed them:   
“He rode to Dale before dawn, my King, with the young Prince.”   
Thorin glanced towards Fíli but he looked even more confused than Thorin was.   
“You’re sure of this?” he asked.   
“Quite sure, my King,” the guard nodded. “I saw them leave myself.”   
“There’s only one thing that could have made him go there,” Fíli said in a low voice and Thorin nodded his understanding.   
“Thank you for informing us,” he told the guard. “You may go now. Get some rest. But please ask the guards on duty to inform me when my nephew returns.”   
“Very good, my King.” The guard bowed and left the room. Once they were alone, Thorin turned to his oldest nephew. “Perhaps it’s a good thing he is gone to the city today.”   
“Why’s that?”   
“Fáin arrives today.” He saw Fíli’s jaw clench at the mention of him.   
“He’s going to find out sooner or later, uncle.”   
“I know. I’ll tell him when he returns.”   
“You should have told him when Thorin left.”   
“I didn’t want to add to his concerns. He seemed to be doing so much better.”   
Fíli nodded his expression lightening slightly. “He is. When we saw Cairi yesterday it seemed to go very well. She remembered Angus, and that Kíli gave him to her.”   
“That’s fantastic,” Thorin smiled, feeling a genuine rush of happiness at the thought. “Do you think she’ll start to remember more?”   
“I know she will,” Fíli smiled back. “It was always a matter of time.”   
“You believe that?” Thorin asked and was surprised when Fíli’s smile grew wider.   
“I always believed it,” he said and Thorin suddenly found himself looking into the Durin-blue eyes, but in the face of his old friend lost so long ago. “She’s Kíli’s One. They belong together. It’s impossible for anything to get in the way of that.”   
Not for the first time, Thorin was astonished at the amount of wisdom coming from the dwarf he used to carry on his shoulders and to whom he told bedtime stories about monsters and warriors.   
“You know,” he said to Fíli. “Your father said a very similar thing to me when he wanted to propose to your mother.”   
“He did?” Fíli asked, his eyes sparkling, as they always did, at the mention of his father.   
“Aye. Most dwarves, particularly dwarves of nobility, when they wish to marry will ask the dam’s father, or next of kin, more out of tradition than anything else. When Nalí was courting your mother her next of kin was me. But he decided he wasn’t going to so much ask me as tell me.”   
Fíli raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Âmad never told me that before.”   
“Well he did,” Thorin chuckled. “He returned from a hunt and, after delivering his game to the kitchens, he immediately sought me out in my study, still in his mud-stained clothes, and he said, ‘My King, Thorin, my friend, I did a lot of thinking when I was out there, and the thing is, I want to marry your sister. Lady Dis is the most hard-headed, stubborn, relentless dam I’ve ever met and I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life by her side as the luckiest dwarf in Middle-Earth. As soon as I’m finished here I’m going to go up to the royal quarters and ask her. I hope you’ll not try to stop me, but even if you do you should know that even though I’m a low-born hunter and she’s the heiress to a kingdom, there is nothing that can stop us from being bound to one another, save Mahal himself.’”   
Fíli stared at him as he recounted the tale, his eyes widening slightly as he chuckled.   
“How did you react?”   
“To be perfectly honest I was trying my hardest not to burst out laughing. I never told him, but I’d had the exact same conversation with your mother not two days before when I asked her if she was serious about seeing this courtship through to the end.”   
Fíli let out a short laugh at that. “I can imagine Âmad gave you quite the telling.”   
“You know I’m not normally one to let things go, but this was one occasion where I knew there was no winning the fight. Instead, your father and I became brothers and your mother gained two strong sons. How can I possibly complain about that?”   
Fíli smiled warmly and nodded in thanks and Thorin reciprocated.   
“The way your mother used to look at your father, I saw that in Kíli every time he looked at Vana. That’s why I gave them my blessing. I knew there was no stopping it. And after your father died, the loss that I saw in your mother is horribly similar to what I see in Kíli now.”   
Fíli’s smile had faded and he was back to his usual serious expression.   
“I would give anything to bring him back to his usual self,” he said softly.   
“I know,” Thorin replied. “As would I. But the truth is none of us are the same after the battle. And I doubt we ever will be again.”   
Fíli’s hand seemed to unconsciously move to the dark red scar that stretched across the right half of his forehead, disappearing into his hair. The sight of it made Thorin’s jaw clench.   
“No,” Fíli shook his head, lowering his hand back to the table. “You’re probably right.”   
“The best we can do is rebuild our lives with what we have,” Thorin said in a stronger voice. “Your brother’s still alive, that’s more than many can say; your mother will be by your side again soon; and it’s possible that Vana may be returned to us as well, from what you’ve told me.”   
“I hope so,” Fíli nodded. “For Kíli’s sake and ours.”   
“I do miss her,” he admitted. “More than anything I wish I could apologise to her.”   
“You did,” Fíli said. “On the ice fields, don’t you remember?”   
“A little,” Thorin shook his head. “But I thought I was going to die. You all did. I can’t help wondering if that was the reason for her forgiveness.”   
“I don’t think she ever thought there was anything to forgive,” Fíli assured him. “She was always more conscious than any of us about the gold-sickness, though none of us realised it. I still don’t know exactly why, but she never blamed you for any of it.”   
Thorin was speechless at this. He knew the reason why of course, he had told Vana himself of the gold sickness, admitted his fear of it to her when he hadn’t even admitted it to his sister, his nephews, his best friend. The realisation hit him that, in losing Vana, he had lost a dear friend as well as his nephew’s beloved. The thought began to overwhelm him and he quickly got to his feet.   
“I hope that’s true,” he said to Fíli. “But for now, we have to get down to the mines.”   
Fíli looked at him wordlessly for a moment before nodding and following him out of the door.

Fáin arrived later that afternoon and greeted Thorin and Fíli with a cordial bow.   
“My King, my Prince.”   
“Thank you for coming Lord Fáin,” Thorin greeted him with conservative politeness. “Your chambers are all ready for you to be settled. If you’re not too tired I hope you will meet us in an hour for the council meeting to catch up on the current workings of the kingdom.”   
“Of course, my King,” Fáin bowed again. “I will be happy to join you. If a guard could escort me I can be there in an hour.”   
“Of course,” Thorin nodded and Fíli left to inform them. “I apologise that my other nephew is not here to greet you. He was called away on urgent business to Dale this morning and has still not returned.”   
“Ah, of course, young Prince Kíli,” Fáin nodded, his expression carefully neutral. “He won’t be joining us for the meeting then?”   
“Prince Kíli has been busying himself with the repairs,” Thorin told him, watching his face closely. “You’ll probably hardly see him while you’re here.”   
“I hope you know I don’t bear any hard feelings towards him,” Fáin said. “I only wish to offer any aid I can in helping rebuild this great kingdom.”   
Thorin only nodded, not believing a word of it.

 _After the incredibly long and arduous meeting, made even longer by Fáin’s constant questions and suggestions of how things might be ‘better run’, Thorin almost groaned aloud when the dwarf caught up to him in the corridor outside.  
“I just wanted to let you know, my King, that I’m all caught up on the proceedings. With your permission I was hoping to go over the most recent treasury reports -”   
“No,” Thorin said a little too sharply. “My kinsman, Glóin, is in charge of the treasury and he has been given strict instructions not to let anyone near it. In any case we have no current need for it. The shares for Dale and the Woodland Realm have already been given out and Dáin took his share back to the Iron Hills when he left in the winter.”   
“Naturally, my King, I’m only thinking to help. I can make use of my time elsewhere.”   
_He uses the phrase ‘my King’ far too liberally,_ Thorin couldn’t help thinking.   
“I just wondered one more thing,” Fáin said and Thorin couldn’t stop the short huff that left his chest. “All of your company still reside in the Mountain, is that correct?”   
Thorin’s eyes narrowed slightly as he answered.   
“All except one. Vana decided she wanted to stay in Dale whilst she recovers from her injuries.”   
“Yes, my brother mentioned she was badly wounded,” Fáin nodded with fake sincerity. “Shot with a goblin crossbow at close range. It’s a miracle she survived.”   
“A miracle mixed with some Elvish medicine,” Thorin remarked before turning to leave, only for Fáin to follow close at his side.   
“This business in Dale of Prince Kíli’s, it wouldn’t have anything to do with Miss Vana, would it?”   
Thorin stopped again, this time making no attempt to hide his annoyance.   
“I don’t believe that’s any of your concern Lord Fáin.”   
Fáin said nothing for a moment, only bowing once more. “My apologies, my King. I only meant to say that, with all the repairs the Mountain is clearly in need of, and the fact that the girl is now -”   
“That  woman_ ,’ Thorin corrected him in a low voice. “Is a member of the company responsible for the reclamation of this Mountain, as well as the one who saved my nephews’ lives in the battle, and as such she is to be treated and referred to with the respect that is due.”   
“Of course, my King, but as it still stands, she is back with her own kind now. I can’t help but wonder if the prince’s time would be better spent attending his duties here. If I am speaking too boldly then I apologise, it’s only what I think.”   
“You are too bold,” Thorin said sharply. “And I will thank you never to concern yourself with the personal affairs of my family again.”   
“As you command, my King,” Fáin gave another low bow and Thorin stormed away down the corridor before he could straighten up again.

He had barely the time to breathe as he entered his chambers before an angry voice in his ear had him letting out a yell and reaching for his sword.   
“He’s up to something!” Fíli barked, stepping neatly back as Thorin spun around, his sword already halfway out of its scabbard.   
“Mahal, Fíli!” Thorin growled, shoving his sword back in. “Don’t do that! And what are you doing in my chambers?”   
“I didn’t want to risk being overheard,” his nephew said flatly. “And Nori’s assured me there’s no secret passages leading to these rooms, which is very surprising.”   
“And what exactly do you not want to be overheard saying?” Thorin asked, still trying to steady his breathing.   
“This Mountain is crawling with Dáin’s subjects,” Fíli lowered his voice, his expression still fiery. “Your councils are filled with _his_ advisors, and now his brother is here asking about the treasury. You don’t think that’s a little suspicious?”   
“My councils are filled with his advisors because except for Balin and Glóin, mine are all back in Ered Luin. As for Fáin, he’s always thought a lot of himself, and doubtless being stationed in a kingdom with as much might as this one is exciting for him.”   
“And Vana?” Fíli’s eyes narrowed. “Why is she of concern to him?”   
Thorin sighed heavily. “How much did you hear?”   
“I heard everything, uncle. And you’re right, he is far too bold. But that doesn’t answer my question.”   
“I don’t know anything for certain,” he said evenly. “But after the fight at the camp, Dáin said something to me about Kíli. He offered to introduce him to some dwarrowdams at his court.”   
Fíli’s eyebrows almost disappeared into his hair at this revelation. “Did you agree?”   
“Of course not,” Thorin shook his head sharply. “Arranging courtships is hardly on my list of priorities right now.”   
Fíli nodded, but still looked sceptical. “Is Fáin of the same mind?”   
“I have no idea,” Thorin shrugged. “Dáin has his views on the matter of your brother and Vana but he’s not the type of dwarf to interfere without my consent.”   
“You’re sure about that?”   
“Completely,” Thorin assured him. “He was brought here for a while when we were dwarflings. We became almost as close as brothers.”   
Fíli nodded again. “Then what of Fáin?”   
Thorin only shook his head. “Again, I have no idea.”   
“Uncle…” Fíli’s face fell into a frown and Thorin waited patiently for him to speak his mind. “Do you think this has anything to do with what happened to Vana in Ered Luin?”   
Thorin’s face hardened at the memory. He would never forget the sight that assaulted him in his chambers that night, entering to find Vana on the bed, covered in blood – hers or not he couldn’t tell – Kíli kneeling by her side, the thunder in his eyes barely concealed by the shock on his face, and Fíli tensed with rage as he ordered the three guards to the wall, axe brandished like a warrior about to charge.   
He blinked hard to bring himself back to the present and his own smouldering gaze met his nephews.   
“You mean do I think Fáin wants to make sure she’s out of his life for good?”   
“That too.”   
“Yes, I think he wants her gone. As for what happened in Ered Luin… I won’t lie and say I’m not suspicious.”   
This time it was Fíli who went visibly tense. “We have to tell Kíli.”   
“No,” Thorin said, this time with authority. “If we revisit that subject he won’t be able to keep his temper at all. The last thing we need is him causing trouble with Fáin.”   
“He’s never stopped believing it was him,” Fíli said matter-of-factly. “There’s no avoiding it, uncle. You’d be better keeping the element of surprise to an absolute minimum.”   
“I will tell him all that he needs to know,” Thorin said in a tone that told his nephew the conversation was over. “And you will tell him no more.”   
Fíli’s jaw visibly clenched, but he grudgingly nodded and Thorin allowed himself a moment of relief.   
“Very well,” Fíli said. “But I still think you’re wrong.”   
“I know.”   
After a moment of shared regard, Fíli gave a short bow and went to the door.   
“Fíli,” Thorin caught his attention as he opened the door and the prince turned his fierce blue eyes back to him. Thorin met them with his own. “If you sneak into my chamber without my permission again, I will stick you in the treasury with Glóin until Durin’s Day.”   
The briefest flicker of a smile crossed Fíli’s face as he nodded stiffly and left the room.


	10. The Rebuild

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I can only apologise. This story, for whatever reason, keeps getting ahead of me. I am doing my very best to keep to the deadline but clearly it's not quite working out so it might be more prudent to change the update to fortnightly rather than weekly. 
> 
> As for this next chapter, shall we just say the days are getting longer and a bit brighter? :)

_ Cairi/Vana  _

Over the coming weeks I saw more and more of Kíli. At first he came by only a couple of times a week, usually just to ask how I was doing and to answer any questions. Since Angus’ return I was remembering a lot of things much more clearly and was going through parchment like bread and water. When I told him I was worried I would run out, the next time he came to see me he brought as many rolls from the mountain as he could fit under his arm. Soon, a couple of days became every other day and he would come down in the afternoon after spending the morning in the mountain. He told me of his duties with his brother and of the meetings he had to go to, as well as the repairs still going in the mines and in the lower quarters of the mountain. It was a race now to repair as much of the living quarters as possible now that the dwarves of the Blue Mountains were to return.   
I told him about travelling through the south in Gondor and Rohan, about performing and learning new songs to play. Inevitably we ended up talking about our time in the Blue Mountains, but when we did he seemed to close up, always letting me broach the subjects and only confirming details that I shared with him, never offering his own. It was hard to tell whether it was out of concern for my patchy memory, or whether he was hiding something from me. Either way, his carefulness didn’t suit him and I found myself purposely looking for things we could speak about that would make him smile that cheeky, mischievous smile of his. And so, gradually, we began to get to know each other again.

One day, in an atypical streak of boldness, he even brought Daisy down from the Mountain and asked if I would go riding with him. I was hesitant at first, but the idea was making him smile so much I thought his face would split, so I agreed.   
I rode Angus without a saddle, only his head collar and the leather reins I had managed to get from the tanner and Kíli watched in awe as I swung myself effortlessly onto Angus’ back and rode comfortably up to where he was already mounted.   
“How do you keep your balance without a saddle?” he asked me.   
“It’s pretty simple. Your weight goes through your legs and keeps you seated. As long as you don’t lean too far, you’re fine. Besides, Angus likes it.”   
Angus gave a helpful snort and I giggled. When I looked back to Kíli he was smiling again.   
“Are you ready?”   
“Ready to beat you,” I grinned and gently jabbed Angus in the sides with my heels. He took off out of the gate in a full gallop, forcing the guards to leap aside for their lives and left Kíli and Daisy in the dust. I heard Kíli’s indignant shout behind me and laughed as the sound of Daisy’s hooves echoed behind us.   
“ _Siuthad_ Angus!” I called and Angus’ ears went flat as he sped up, galloping down the hill and down towards the forest far in the distance. I glanced over my shoulder to see Daisy galloping after us, Kíli standing up in the saddle to let her go as fast as possible, but she wasn’t getting any closer. After a few minutes, I reined Angus in.   
“ _Maillich_.”   
I pulled him around to face Kíli and watched with a grin as he finally caught up to us.   
“You cheat,” he huffed, though he was still smiling.   
“I prefer the term ‘opportunist,’ I winked. He chuckled and shook his head as we walked on. We shared a companionable silence as we went, until we reached a sheltered dip beneath the hill where a small stream ran down from the mountain towards the lake. From here we had a good view of the forest and of the side of the lake down to the south, so we stopped to let the ponies drink and graze. Kíli took a gulp of water from his water skin before offering me some, which I accepted. He then took his coat from where it was bundled up on the saddle and laid it out for us to sit on, reaching into the pockets and producing four apples.   
“For you,” he said with a smile and handed me two.   
“Thank you,” I had to grin at the familiar gesture before calling Angus. The pony’s head whipped up and he trotted over to accept the apple from my outstretched hand. Kíli went to give his to Daisy but was only waylaid by Angus, who was nosing hopefully at his hand.   
“Angus! _Siuthad!”_ I clapped my hands sharply and he stomped off with a snort. Kíli chuckled as he gave the apple to Daisy.   
“What are you saying to him?” he asked, sitting back next to me.   
“It just means ‘go,’” I told him.   
“But what language is it? I’ve never heard you speak it before.”   
“Oh, well, I’m not sure exactly. But some of the travellers from the south spoke it. It’s an old language, they told us it’s barely spoken anymore since the decline of the Northern kingdoms. But we always had so many different people travelling with us and it was sort of an unspoken rule that we all try to learn from each other. My brother and I used to speak it to each other, and sometimes Mam too. Da was never much good at learning it. But it meant we got to learn their songs, and when you translate them into the Common Tongue it doesn’t sound as poetic but the words are still beautiful.”   
He listened intently with a small smile, though he made no response. When I looked at him I could see the deep brown of his eyes gleaming like polished wood in the sunlight, and it took me a few seconds to realise I was staring.   
“I’m sorry,” I blushed and looked away. “I’m rambling.”   
“You’re not,” he said softly. “I’d like to hear more. Maybe I could hear one of those songs some time?”   
“Goodness,” I murmured, kicking my brain into action. “I know so many of them…”   
“Don’t worry about it,” he said quickly. “But, speaking of remembering, how is that going?”   
“I’ve remembered a bit more,” I told him. “I remembered competing in the games last night.”   
“You did? That’s great!”   
“I don’t know about that…” I said softly. “I broke someone’s hand.”   
Kíli’s smile faded. “But he deserved it.”   
I only shrugged.   
“It’s quite remarkable actually,” Kíli continued. “Dwarves have tough bones. It would have taken considerable strength.”   
“Well, my grandmother was an elf, maybe that has something to do with it.”   
“Perhaps,” he nodded slowly, his gaze dropping and his face softening into a contemplative expression and I began to feel self-conscious again – a special type of shyness that only seemed to happen around him.   
“Does that bother you?” I asked in a small voice.   
“What?” he blinked and looked back to me. “You being half-Elvish?”   
“Not half…” I murmured.   
“No, it doesn’t bother me,” he shook his head once with a smile. “If anything it explains a lot.”   
“It does?”   
He nodded, his eyes growing dark. “I saw your injuries after the battle. You should have died, even with Tauriel’s help, but you didn’t. You healed, even faster than we all thought.”   
“Not completely,” I said, thinking of the scars.   
“Enough,” he replied and his lips twitched into a small smile. “You’re alive.”   
I met his gaze for a few moments before sighing at the onslaught of unclear feelings this conversation was churning up.   
“It’s strange,” I said softly. “Before, I doubt anyone beyond my own family would have cared what happened to me.”   
“Well, we’re your family,” Kíli replied immediately before apparently catching himself. “Or, we were – I mean we still can be – if you want…” he trailed off, refusing to meet my eyes.    
I didn’t speak for a few moments. His words didn’t bother me as much as he seemed to think they did, but I didn’t even think to tell him so. Looking at him sitting next to me, his long dark hair dancing in the summer breeze and the sunlight glowing dark gold on his skin, my mind seemed to suddenly snap to attention and I remembered his request from earlier.   
“I remember one of the songs, if you’d like to hear it?” My voice went shy again and I felt my face flush as his gaze returned to mine and he relaxed, smiling once more.   
“I’d love to.”   
I managed to smile back before taking a deep breath and closing my eyes, letting the words fill my mind.   
“I only remember a couple of verses,” I told him, opening my eyes again.   
“That’s all right,” he said, still smiling as he waited patiently and I took another deep breath before singing:

 _“A Mhagaidh, na bi tursach_  
A ruin, ged gheibhinn bas.   
Co am fear am measg an t-sluaigh  
A mhaireas buan gu brath? 

_“Chan eil sinn uile ach air chuairt,_  
Mar dhithein buaile fas  
Bheir siantannan na blianna sios   
‘S nach tog a’ghrian an aird.” 

 The melody was slow, normally sung without instruments and with a group of us, but I did the best I could by myself. When I finished Kíli was staring at me, wide-eyed and the smile gone from his face. I felt my face flush as he stared, but I couldn’t have torn my eyes from his if my life depended on it.   
“That’s…” he breathed and cleared his throat. “That was beautiful. What does it mean?”   
“Uh…” Now there was a good question. I thought hard back to the woman who had taught me it and did my best to translate.

 _“Maggie, don’t be sad_  
Love, if I should die.   
Who among men   
Endures eternally? 

_“We are all only on a journey,_  
Like flowers in the deserted cattle fold   
That the year’s wind and rain will bring down   
And the sun cannot raise.”

As the sun was starting to dip into the early evening, Kíli escorted me back to the city, this time walking me back up to the bastion itself.   
“Thank you for today,” I said to him when we reached the door. “Are you sure you don’t want to come in for dinner?”   
“No, I’d better get back to my uncle,” he said with a slightly regretful smile. “But I’ll see you again soon?”   
“Thursday?” I asked with a hopeful grin.   
“Thursday,” he nodded, his smile widening into a cheeky grin. The sight made me feel as though my heart had stopped, and it was several seconds before I realised I hadn’t said anything else.   
“Well – uh – goodbye then,” I stammered and held my hand out to him before I could stop myself. He glanced down at it with clear confusion crossing his face for a split second but before I could yank my hand away in embarrassment he had enveloped it in his own. His skin was impossibly warm, even considering the heat of the summer sun and the exertion from walking all the way up to the bastion and I barely held back the gasp that threatened to escape my throat. I squeezed his hand briefly before tugging mine loose and practically shoving the door to the bastion open.

All the way up to my chamber my head was swimming, my hand prickling with the urge to write. When I reached the dining hall I noticed the table wasn’t set and thought I might have a little time to write some of my thoughts down before dinner, until a series of clatters and thuds reached my ears. I peered past the staircase and saw the door that went down into the kitchen was ajar and somebody was kneeling behind it. I approached it quietly, worried it might be Prue in one of her moods, and peered through the gap.   
It was Sigrid, frantically picking up scattered pieces of cutlery and piling them onto the tray she had obviously dropped.   
I nudged the door open, careful not to hit her and knelt down to help. She looked up at me briefly and I could see her face was slightly flushed and her forehead was creased in a deep frown, making her look far older than her seventeen years.   
“Are you alright?” I asked.   
“Yes, just fine, thank you.” Her reply was slightly short and her frown didn’t go away even as she tried to smile at me. I continued to help her.   
“Where’s Prue?”   
“In town. Leorie’s son has a fever. She’ll probably be gone until late so I said I’d take care of dinner.” She picked up the tray and headed into the dining room. I followed at a safe distance, waiting until she’d put the tray down before speaking again.   
“Do you need some help?”   
“No, that’s alright,” she replied without looking and began to polish the cutlery with a cloth from her pocket. “I just need to get this done and then I’ll get started. It shouldn’t be more than an hour.”   
“I can do this,” I offered. “I would offer to cook dinner but I’m afraid Prue would have me locked in the cells for poisoning you all.” I managed to coax a small chuckle from Sigrid but she still didn’t desist from her polishing.   
“Sig, how long have you been working?”   
There was a long pause before she answered quietly:   
“A while.”   
“Where are Bain and Tilda?”  
At this she let out an exasperated sigh.   
“Tilda had lessons this morning and then I sent her over to Hilda Bianca’s to play with her daughter. Bain’s been at the smith’s and then at the sparring grounds. They haven’t seen nearly enough sun since the feast.”   
“Neither have you,” I pointed out. “You should have told me what needed doing, I would have stayed in today.”   
“No,” she looked at me properly for the first time. “You were with Kíli.”   
“That’s not -”   
“It’s important,” she insisted. “You’ve been so much happier since you’ve started seeing him. And I know you’re remembering more, I’ve seen your parchments.”   
At my expression she smiled slightly.   
“I haven’t read them. I changed your bed linen today and saw the parchment. I think you’ve enough for a novel or two by now.”   
I relaxed and let out a laugh. “You might be right. But you shouldn’t be working yourself into the ground. What does Bard say?”   
Her smile faded at the mention of her father.   
“He doesn’t notice. He’s too busy himself. It’s not his fault, he didn’t choose to be in charge. But everyone wanted him to so he thinks it’s his duty.”   
“What do you mean?” It was my turn to frown.   
Sigrid sighed, finally setting the cutlery down and leaning her arms on the table surface.   
“He’s been difficult lately. Very withdrawn and tired. Whenever I try to talk to him and ask him to take a break he grows hostile. I know he’s got a lot on his mind but he doesn’t talk to anyone anymore, not unless they come to ask him for favours.” She turned to look at me and it suddenly hit me just how tired she really was.   
“I’m worried about him.”   
It occurred to me, seeing Sigrid like this, that it had been a long time since I had spoken to Bard, beyond ‘good morning’ and small dinner time conversations. Come to think of it, it had been a long time since I had spoken to any of them individually. I had been so preoccupied with Kíli and my memories that I’d neglected the very people who had taken me in.   
“I’m sorry,” I said to Sigrid, who looked round at me in question. “I’ve been so self-absorbed these past weeks.”   
“You don’t have to apologise.”   
“Yes I do. I should have seen what was going on. Look, from now on you must tell me when you need help. Whatever it is I’ll do it. And I’ll make sure Tilda has time to play and Bain can train.”   
“Thank you for that Cairi, but honestly, there’s no need. Prue and I can usually get everything done. It’s just because she’s been away most of the day that I’ve had extra work to do.” She paused with a strange look crossing her face, and when she spoke again she sounded almost shy. “There is perhaps something I could ask of you…”   
“Anything,” I replied.   
“Could you speak to Da?”   
“Oh, I…yes, I could,” I replied hesitantly. “What would you like me to say to him?”   
“Nothing really,” she sighed. “I just want him to realise that he needs help too sometimes, and it might sound better coming from someone who isn’t his child.”   
“Sig, you know he loves you all.”   
“I know, and that’s the problem. He thinks he has to prove to us that he can look after us all _and_ rule the city. But I know he doesn’t truly want to be king. He’s only doing it because everyone chose to follow him. And I know he feels guilty about bringing the dwarves into Lake-town in the first place – I mean, I know none of what happened was any of your faults, but -”    
“Alright, alright,” I laid a hand on her shoulder, attempting to calm her down. “I understand what you’re saying. I’ll talk to him now. But I can’t promise anything.”   
Her shoulders sagged slightly in relief and she replied in a hushed voice. “Thank you. I’ll ring the bell when it’s time for dinner.”

Bard was exactly where Sigrid said he would be. I knocked on the door to his study and was met with a gruff ‘Come.’ When I entered, the first thing I noticed was how warm it was. Bard looked up from where he sat at his desk and a surprised smile immediately lit up his very tired face.   
“Cairi, to what do I owe this?” He stood up to greet me and I had to tilt my head to look up at him.   
“I brought you some tea,” I said, brandishing the cup and saucer in my hand. “I’m afraid I made it but I don’t think you can accidentally poison someone with tea.”    
“Thank you,” he took the cup from me and raised it to his lips.   
“How are you?” I asked, walking past him to open the window. “Have you been in here all day?”   
“I confess I have,” he said. “There’s a lot of work to do before the harvest. I have to figure out how much we need to keep and how much we can sell, and then who to send with the merchandise down South. We’re still far too short of men who can fight, and a lot of the old guards from Lake-town don’t much like taking orders from a bargeman.”   
“There are still plenty of people here loyal to you. Why don’t you ask someone for help?”   
He placed the cup on the desk and looked at me properly.   
“You’ve been talking to Sigrid.”   
“I suppose I made that a little too obvious,” I cringed but didn’t drop his gaze. He didn’t seem angry, but his expression seemed to grow even more exhausted, much like his daughter’s. He heaved a sigh and sat back in his desk chair, surrounded by papers and ink bottles. He looked about twenty years older.   
“I hate that she’s worried,” he said quietly.   
“Can you blame her?” I asked as politely as possible.   
“I suppose not,” he muttered and rubbed his hands over his face. “But what can I do?”   
I didn’t answer – obviously, how could I? I didn’t know the first thing about how to run a city, on principle I was only too wary of people who ran cities. It was they who taught their subjects to hate people like me. Bard was the exception.   
“Do you want to rule?” I asked him.   
At first he made no answer, only staring at the wall opposite his desk. I could almost see his mind working away behind his eyes as he seemed to consider my question. His eyes darkened slightly for a few seconds then lightened once again as he took a deep breath, as if to calm himself down.   
“Honestly?” He looked at me once again and I nodded.   
“No, I don’t. But I have to.”   
“Why?”   
“Because…” he sighed and sat forward in his chair, leaning his elbows on his knees so he was now looking up at me where I leant against the windowsill. “My ancestors ruled this city. My father used to tell me about them, as his father told him, and his father before and so on all the way back to Girion himself. It’s in my blood to make sure this city stands tall and proud once again. And then there’s the people of Lake-town. Most of them want me to rule, they chose me when the Master abandoned them. I can’t let them down.”  
“But if you could find someone who actually wanted to rule…?” I began but Bard only shook his head.   
“The Master _wanted_ to rule. I won’t subject my people to any other man who craves power again. No, I made my choice and I must stick to it.”   
I nodded slowly, never breaking his gaze. “And your children?”   
His brow furrowed slightly and I felt a moment of panic in case I had touched a nerve.    
“I just mean that Sigrid’s working herself into the ground trying to make sure Bain has enough time to himself to train and so Tilda can have a childhood, but she’s worried about you too.”   
“I know she is,” Bard sighed. “I’ve tried to tell her we can hire more servants, but I don’t think she likes the idea of being a Lady who gives orders to her friends.”   
“So don’t use the term ‘servant,’” I offered. “They’re paid to help her with the day to day chores, like Prue. And I’ll be helping her a lot more from now on.”   
“You will?” he frowned again before his lips quirked up into another smirk. “You hate housework.”   
“I also hate seeing Sigrid like that,” I said. “And I…I’m sorry I’ve been so distant from you all lately.”   
“Cairi -”  
“No,” I shook my head. “You’ve all been so kind to me and I’ve repaid your hospitality very poorly. My mother would be ashamed of me.”   
“I doubt that very much.” Bard said with a small smile. “But thank you. I know Tilda will love to see more of you.”   
“I’ve missed her too,” I smiled back. “It’s just been so… I don’t know, not overwhelming as such. My memories are coming back more and more these days, and when they do I feel like I have to write them down right away in case I forget them later or worse, they start to pile up.”   
“I understand that,” he nodded. “Your recovery is still your priority. We all understand that.”  
“Thank you.”   
He swallowed hard before he spoke again.  “And how have your visits with the dwarf prince been?”   
“Kíli,” I reminded him.   
He nodded. “Kíli.”   
“They’ve been…a big help.” I said, unable to help the smile sneaking up on me.   
Bard gazed at me for a moment before he also smiled. “I’m glad.”   
I smiled back at him before something occurred to me; not so much a memory as a nagging thought in the back of my mind, though I wasn’t exactly sure what it was.   
“Can I ask you something?” I asked Bard.   
“Of course.”   
“In Lake-town, the Company and I were with you weren’t we?”   
“You were. I snuck you into my house -”   
“Through the toilet, yes!” I finished for him, cringing at the memory of the cold water. “Thank you for that.”   
“I’m very sorry,” he chuckled. “And I thought nothing could make the lot of you grumpier.”   
“I think dwarves can always find something,” I shrugged, trying to remain serious. “I just wondered…what were they like? With me, I mean?”   
“You don’t remember?”   
“I remember being very cold, embarrassed and, well, grumpy. And I remember the smell of fish, but there’s nothing clear.” I watched Bard’s expression as he seemed to consider his answer. His face remained perfectly steady, but something in his eyes seemed to change, like a cloud rolling past the faint sun on a winter’s day. It took a few moments before he shook his head slightly, a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth as he answered.   
“They were…very protective of you. They seemed to consider you as much a dwarf as they, and I could see that you felt the same.”   
I nodded slowly but he wasn’t finished.   
“You know, when we first met you reminded me of someone.”   
“Who was that?”   
“My wife.” His smile faded as soon as he said it. Instinctively my guard rose and I visibly tensed, feeling the urge to run from the room. I don’t know if it was because of my reaction, or if he didn’t even notice, but his eyes seemed to fall sadly.   
“Not because you look like her. She had light hair, neither golden nor brown, like Sigrid’s and Tilda’s. And she was tall, one of the tallest girls I’d ever seen. She was taller than me when we were children, you know?” He glanced up at me and chuckled and I managed to smile back before he lowered his gaze once again.   
“But she was never afraid to put me in my place when I needed it, nor anyone else. She was the boss. I knew that when I married her, and I never complained. She was always there to turn to when I needed her, when I needed guidance.”   
He sighed and rubbed his hand briefly over his eyes before looking back to me.   
“I miss her now more than ever.”   
I swallowed hard with a sort of sorrowful empathy weighing on my chest.   
“Have I made you uneasy?”   
I glanced up at him to find him staring at me and realised what my expression must be.   
“No, you haven’t -” I began.   
“Cairi,” he cut me off and, to my surprise, smiled again. “I don’t have any intentions towards you. I never did. The only thing I’ve ever wanted from you is friendship.”   
I couldn’t help but sigh in relief and both Bard and I laughed slightly at my reaction.   
“I’m sorry,” I said. “But when you said I reminded you of your wife -”   
“In a completely innocent way, I assure you. I loved her, yes, but she was my best friend as well.”   
“Sigrid told me a little about her,” I told him. “You certainly sounded like a happy family.” My smile faded at my own words, though I tried to cover it up. Bard’s smile faltered slightly as he reached over to take my hand.   
“You’ll always be welcome here, any time you need us.”   
Only a few months ago his words would have made me, if anything, more doubtful. I grew up learning that city-folk were only ever friendly wanted something from us, and by now that feeling was deep in my instincts. This time, however, I believed him.   
“Thank you, Bard.”   
“And I will speak to Sigrid tonight. She needs time to herself as well.”   
“Good luck convincing her of that,” I chuckled and went to leave. As I opened the door Bard caught my attention once more, picking up his cup from the desk.   
“Oh, and Cairi?” he said with a short laugh. “This is the worst tea I’ve ever tasted.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song used:   
> Capercaillie - An Eala Bhann


	11. The Enemy has the Sweetest of Smiles.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, I suck, sorry...

_ Kíli _

In general Kíli did enjoy working in the forges, smithing weapons and armour or even just tools. He liked the heat from the fire and the sounds of hammers on anvils, and he especially liked the satisfaction of a completed article, whether it was a sword, an axe or a simple shoe for the ponies. However the experience was always overshadowed by the long hours of waiting for the metals to melt and then cool again, the shaping and the refining; patience was never one of his strengths. He preferred being up in the higher levels where there were still plenty of repairs needed, or outside with the ponies or hunting in the valleys. Game was still very scarce, despite the dragon having been dead for many months now, but the warm days were already giving new life to the surrounding wilderness.  
Both Erebor and Dale had made remarkable improvements. The city, whilst many of its buildings were still in a state of disrepair, was no longer lifeless but blossoming. Crops were growing in the surrounding lands, their merchant’s quarter was bustling from dawn to dusk, and trade deals were in discussion. The arrival of newly purchased horses had been a source of great excitement. Kíli had been there the day they came, on one of his visits. She had been especially happy. Many of the people of Lake-town had little to no experience with horses and the men who brought them into the city were more than a little surprised when she walked right up to the animals and proceeded to lead not one but three into the stables. They were meant to explore the city together but ended up staying in the stable for most of the afternoon. He didn’t mind, she had been in her element despite the fact that these horses made her look even smaller compared to her fellow Men. He caught a few amused glances aimed at the two of them weaving in and out of the huge animals and he was sure he spotted one of the Men snickering as he set out a stool for himself to groom one of the new carthorses who were especially large. He told himself he didn’t care – honestly the worst thing about it was Angus. The beast was even more unbearable now that he had a pack of full-sized horses to compete with.  
The whole time they were together they talked. He told her about Erebor, she told him about Dale; he spoke of his brother and uncle, she of Bard and his children. Occasionally she spoke of her own family: her father was a smith and he taught her about horses, her mother taught her to sing. She had gone very timid, uncharacteristically so, when she told him that her grandmother was an Elf. He didn’t know if it was because he was a Dwarf and she felt uncomfortable mentioning it, or whether she was just so used to being ostracised for having mixed blood, but he was careful in his reaction nonetheless.  
She never spoke of her brother.

“Kíli!”  
He twisted round to see his brother walking down the forge towards him.  
It was then that he realised he had been holding the axe on the anvil and the hammer above it for nearly two minutes without doing anything. He shook his head and placed both on the anvil. He would have to reheat the metal.  
He smiled caught the tied bundle of cloth containing his lunch that Fíli threw to him as they walked to the side of the cavern to sit.  
“How’s your day going?” Fíli asked him.  
“Very well. I finished those shields and now I’m working on the axes.”  
“Are those the ones for the guards?”  
“No, for the infantry.”  
They made small talk while they ate, about Kíli’s work, then Fíli’s meetings with the builders about the lower halls. They were finally moving the bulk of the treasure back into the main treasury and sorting it.  
“Thorin’s adamant,” Fíli told him. “There’s a strict schedule. No one can spend more than two days a week working with the gold, and never consecutively. They all have to take turns and report every single article they remove from the halls. I’ve been fixing the schedule with Balin and it’s more exhausting than Dwalin’s three-day training sessions.”  
“I thought it was only Durin’s line that was affected?”  
“He’s taking no chances. No one in our family is allowed to go near it so Glóin has to oversee the progress without actually seeing the treasure most of the time.”  
Kíli frowned at this and lowered his voice. “But he’s already seen it, we all have. We spent days searching through it.”  
“I know that,” Fíli replied softly. “But he still won’t risk it. He’s terrified, even though he won’t admit it.”  
Kíli nodded and looked more closely at this brother’s face. He was paler than usual, with the significantly lower number of hours he was spending outdoors, and the skin beneath his eyes was dark.  
“You look tired.”  
“I am tired. That schedule -”     
“No, I mean you really look tired. Have you been sleeping?”  
Fíli’s only answer was to avert his eyes.  
“Why not?”  
This time he only mumbled something.  
“What?”  
“I can’t.”  
“Why?”  
“I just…” Fíli trailed off, his fingers playing with the cloth his food had been wrapped in. He still wouldn’t look at Kíli. “I keep thinking about the battle,” he finally said.  
“Oh.” He could have brought that hammer down on his own fingers. Words seemed to falter and dissolve in his mind as he tried to think what to say. The battle wasn’t something he ever spoke of, for his own reasons. The company never spoke to him about it, nor did the Iron Hills dwarves. He realised then how little he had really seen of his brother since. He was always so busy, and when he wasn’t he had spent a great amount of his free time driving Kíli insane so that in the end he had avoided him. Then the ponies had returned, and he had started spending the vast majority of his free time with…in Dale.  
The silence dragged for another few moments before Fíli finally cleared his throat and straightened up to look at him, his face completely composed.  
“How is Cairi?”  
“She is…” he faltered slightly, taken aback by the change in subject. “She seems happier.”  
“I heard they finally obtained some horses,” Fíli said with a small smile. “That must have improved things.”  
“She’s definitely in her element,” Kíli nodded before chuckling to himself. “You should see her Fíli. Imagine her with the ponies back in Ered Luin only they’re about twice as big. And that demon of hers is twice as spiteful.”  
Fíli laughed with him. “And her memories?”  
The laughter faded and Kíli sighed, deciding to cut to the chase. “She hasn’t remembered anything from the quest or…or just before. What she has remembered is little more than details and images and I highly doubt she ever will.”  
“She might remember if you tell her?” Fíli said gently.  
“Or I might make everything worse. No, for the thousandth time, I’m not going to push her.”  
To his surprise, Fíli only nodded.  
“I suppose if I haven’t changed your mind yet then I never will?”  
“No you won’t.”  
He nodded once more before, out of the blue, giving him a small smile.  
“Remember when you used to do everything I said?”  
Kíli grinned back. “I learned that lesson the hard way after you convinced me to put on one of Âmad’s dresses and sneak into the dams’ drawing rooms.”  
“Mahal,” Fíli’s eyes creased from laughing. “How old were we?”  
“Far too old.”  
Shaking his head fondly, Fíli got to his feet.  
“I’d best get back. I’ll see you at dinner?”  
Kíli nodded and stood to watch him leave but Fíli didn’t move at first.  
“You know you’re much more like your old self than you were,” he said softly. Even with his kind smile Kíli could not help but feel uncomfortable.  
“Oh?” he responded, cracking an uneasy smile.  
“Yes,” Fíli continued, unperturbed. “Your face lights up when you talk about her, and you’re always much more light-hearted after your visits to Dale.”  
He knew that his brother meant well, but still Kíli could not even meet his eyes let alone give thanks. He didn’t want to revisit the subject of his old life, nor the future he knew was now lost to him. He said nothing.  
Fíli nodded sadly and finally turned to leave. For the first time in months Kíli took a good look at his big brother. He was slightly thinner, but barely enough to notice. His braids and beard were as neat as ever. He was always smartly dressed – the fumes in the forges did not seem to have left a mark on him. But the biggest difference he noticed was the way he walked; his head was slightly bowed and he was slower. The confidence and self-assurance was gone – or perhaps not gone exactly, but simply hidden, or blocked. He couldn’t tell. He turned away and made his way back to his anvil.  
“My Prince?”  
If there was anything that could have ruined Kíli’s mood today, it was the voice of Fáin lording itself over the heads of every dwarf in the vicinity between them both. He suppressed a groan as the dwarf-lord walked over to him with his horrendous false smile that he seemed to save specifically for himself, his uncle and his brother.  
“Lord Fáin,” he greeted him as cordially as he could.  
“If you’ve the time, my Prince, I was hoping we could discuss the trade agreements from yesterday.”  
“I wasn’t at that meeting if you remember.”  
“I am aware of that, my Prince, I thought I would take the liberty of updating you.”  
“That’s not necessary,” said Kíli and got to his feet, leaning down to pick up his hammer.  
“But, my Prince, surely -”  
“Any information I need to know I will receive from my brother or my uncle.”  
“Oh, of course, of course,” Fáin nodded. “If I may, my Prince, you seem to miss many of these meetings. Is there any business of which I can offer my assistance?”  
At this Kíli gritted his teeth.  
“No there is not.”  
“Are you sure? Only it seems to keep you so busy -”  
“Any business of mine certainly does not concern you, Fáin. If it did you would be the first to hear of it.”  
“Well, from what I hear you have been spending a lot of time in Dale,” Fáin said in a softer voice that made Kíli’s hair stand on end. “Indeed if this business of yours involves our primary trading partner then I’m afraid, as a member of the royal council, it does concern me.”  
Deliberately tightening his grip on his hammer, Kíli took a step closer him.  
“You are here only as a temporary advisor, my Lord. Once the dwarves of Erebor return home you will be returning to the Iron Hills, where such questions as this, I assume, are permitted. If there is anything you need to know, my uncle will tell you. Is that all?”  
Fáin’s expression flickered and Kíli could see the fire catching in his eyes for a moment, but only a moment, before the smile came back and Fáin took a step back and bowed low.  
“As you say, my Prince,” he said politely. “That is all for now.”  
Kíli turned away before he had even finished speaking, returned to the anvil and set to work with even more determination.

_ Dwalin _

It was hot today in the city. The mountain at least shaded them from the sun but in Dale there was no such luck. The walls let all of the heat in and then blocked any semblance of breeze from reaching them. But Dwalin wasn’t going to complain. He never complained, at least not on the outside.  
He and Balin had walked to the city that day to see her and had walked all the way up to the bastion, only to be told by one of the servants that she was at the stables. They made their way back down through the winding stone streets which were pleasantly busy and extremely lively.  
“It’s lovely isn’t it?” Balin asked him.  
“What is?”  
“The city is alive once again, the Mountain is prospering. The dragon is vanquished, the orcs are gone. For now, we are at peace once again.”  
“Oh, aye,” Dwalin nodded, side-stepping a small child who was staring open-mouthed at him like a caught fish. “For how long, I wonder?”  
“Impossible to know,” his brother agreed. “But we should enjoy it.”  
“It’d be easier to enjoy if we weren’t playin’ along with this farce.”  
“What farce is that? Thorin and Bard are allies now -”  
“Not that. I’m talkin’ about Vana.”  
“Ah.” Balin nodded with a small sigh. “You mustn’t call her that. She’s Cairi now.”  
“That’s exactly what I’m talkin’ about,” Dwalin growled. “I don’t see what good it does her for us to treat her any differently than we used to.”  
“She’s too vulnerable right now, brother,” Balin told him in his older-brother-educated-advisor fashion that irritated Dwalin beyond belief. “She has to remember everything on her own, and in her own time.”  
“But if we helped her -”  
“We cannot put memories in her head and expect her to believe them,” Balin cut him off sharply. “If we want her to trust us again then we have to build it, like we did before.”  
“And how long did it take before?”  
“Years most likely,” Balin admitted. “But if that’s what it takes then I’m willing to wait. I know you’re not the most patient dwarf in the world, but I’m sure you are too.”  
Dwalin didn’t answer for a moment, clenching his fists to try and calm himself down.  
“It doesn’t mean I have to like it,” he finally muttered.  
“I don’t like it either,” Balin replied and they moved on in silence towards the stables.

As they approached they both looked for her but she was nowhere to be seen. They peered into the stalls but saw only the horses. A tall, gangly young boy finally appeared and stopped dead at the sight of them. When they enquired after her he only pointed to one of the stalls at the end of the yard. Balin thanked him kindly – while Dwalin only met his eyes and stared until the boy ducked his head and went back to work – and the two dwarves walked over to the stall. In the end, they heard her before they saw her.

 _“I’m gonna wash myself out down by the river,_ _  
Gonna wash myself where the river flows,  
Gonna tell my friends to all join in,   
Gonna tell them all to come.” _

Dwalin couldn’t help the smile that spread across his broad face, and he looked round to see Balin was much the same.  
“I’d hate to interrupt,” he said softly.  
“I agree,” Dwalin replied and leaned back against the wall of the stable.

 _“I’m gonna hold the hand of my friend’s daughter,_ _  
Gonna hold her close, gonna hold her tight,  
Gonna talk about our memories,   
Gonna talk about her life. _

 _“What shall keep me from_ _  
Basking in the sun?  
Patience, restore my way.   
Life begins today.” _

“I feel as though we’re eavesdropping,” Balin whispered.  
“No,” Dwalin shook his head, the smile never leaving his face. “Let her finish.”  
“I don’t know if she would want us to hear.”  
“Ssh!” 

_“Gonna leave behind my fears and cares,_ _  
Gonna leave my worries and regret,  
Gonna find my peace and freedom,   
Gonna find I’m free from debt. _

_“What shall keep me from_ _  
Basking in the sun?  
Patience, restore my way.   
Life begins today.”_

She continued to hum to herself and they heard her moving around, along with the snort of what sounded like a very large animal. Dwalin finally peered over the stable door and found he couldn’t see her at all, only a very tall, bulky dark brown cart horse. Frowning slightly, he knocked against the wooden door, eliciting a startled snort from the horse as it moved sideways.  
“ _Ifrinn! Cuir stad!”_ came a startled voice and the horse snorted again as it moved back a pace. “ _Deamhan…”_ She ducked around the front of the horse and leaned against the side of the stable to massage her right foot. In her other hand she clutched a small bundle of straw.    
“Sorry lass,” Dwalin said, his face flushing. “Didn’ mean to startle yeh.”  
She looked up and smiled widely at the sight of them.  
“Nah,” she replied and straightened up. “He stands on me all the time. I’ll be amazed if he doesn’t tread all the crops to mush. What can I do for you?”  
“We came to see you, lass,” Balin said, tilting his head to call over the stable door which stood inches above his head.  
“Is that you, Balin?” she asked with a grin, peering over the stable door.  
“Aye lass, he replied, his face crinkling with his smile. “We called at the bastion but they said you were down here.”  
“Gods!” She gasped. “It’s never Sunday?”  
“By our reckoning,” Dwalin nodded.  
“I didn’t realise!” She unlocked dropped the straw and unlocked the door. “I must’ve forgotten, I’m so sorry!”  
“No bother lass,” Balin shook his head as she stepped out into the yard and closed the door again. “The walk did us some good.”  
“I wasn’t planning to be dressed like a stable-hand and covered in straw and gods know what else,” she chuckled, glancing down at her filthy shirt and trousers.  
“When we heard there were new horses about we expected nothing less,” said Balin.  
“Aye,” Dwalin nodded. “Yeh were barely away from them back -” he stopped abruptly as he realised what he was saying, exchanging a worried glance with his brother.  
“Back in the Blue Mountains?”  
Her reply caught them both off guard and it wasn’t until she smiled kindly that Dwalin realised he had been holding his breath.  
“It’s alright,” she said. “You can talk about it if you like. I remember a lot more now.”  
“Well…that’s excellent lass,” Balin said with a clear sigh of relief.  
“Shall we sit down?” she asked, and began to walk across the yard. They followed her to a stone structure at the edge of the yard with a recently added wooden roof over the top. Inside were stacks of tools and implements, harnesses for the horses and a few short lengths of slightly frayed rope sitting on top of two benches.  
“It’s not much I’m afraid,” she said, reaching into a far corner for a waterskin and sitting on one of the benches. “But it’s out of the sun.”  
“It’ll do just fine,” said Dwalin as they sat on the bench opposite.  
She took a long gulp from the waterskin before offering it to them. They both politely declined.  
“So,” said Balin. “You look well.”  
She chuckled. “You’re very kind. I am well, a mess, but well.” She grinned. “And you? How fares the Mountain?”  
“We’re making excellent progress,” Balin told her. The living quarters are on target for the first arrival of our folk from the Blue Mountains, our forges are working tirelessly and already it looks as if our mines will be up and running again by spring next year.”  
“That’s excellent,” she said. “And how are the rest of the company?”  
“They’re very well,” Dwalin replied. “And they send their regards.”  
She smiled at that. “That’s very kind of them. Please send them mine as well?”  
“Of course,” said Balin.  
“Have you seen any of them?” Dwalin asked.  
“Only Kíli recently. I haven’t seen Fíli since the spring feast.” She paused for a few moments, fingering the waterskin resting on her lap. “How is he?” she asked more quietly.   
Dwalin frowned slightly. “I thought you’d just seen him?”  
She nodded. “I did, a few days ago now. But he always seems slightly…detached, when he’s with me. I wonder if he’s always like that?”  
Dwalin resisted the urge to look at his brother for help.  
“Well he’s very busy, lass,” Balin said quickly. “There’s still a lot of work to be done and he has other duties to attend to.”  
She nodded, a small frown appearing above her head. “But he mustn’t think he has to spend so much time with me if he’s so busy.”  
“I don’t believe he sees it as a chore, Cairi,” Balin replied kindly. “He enjoys spending time with you.”  
“I enjoy his visits too, but I don’t want to…well I would be horrified if his visits were…”  
“Distracting?” Dwalin finished for her. Her gaze went to him and he forced himself to smile casually. “I assure you lass, it’s good for him.”  
“Why do you say that?” Her frown deepened slightly.  
“Because he…well he was working himself into the ground before. It’s good for him to have some time to himself.”  
“Well, that I understand, but he must spend nearly all of it with me.”  
“Cairi,” Balin cut in. “Do you not enjoy his visits?”  
“Oh no!” she said quickly, shifting forward on her seat. “I do enjoy them very much. It’s a good distraction for me too. All I do when he isn’t here is work and spend time with Bard – that is, King Bard – and his children. It’s nice to have someone else to talk to.”  
Dwalin frowned at that comment; this time he did share a glance with his brother.  
“Do the other folk in Dale…?” Dwalin began but trailed off, trying to find the right words.  
“Do they not treat you well, lass?” Balin finished for him.  
“They treat me well enough,” she said, but her voice was gruffer, and she was no longer looking at them. “But I see the looks they give me. And I see them whispering. Not all of them, many are friendly enough, but I can’t always tell who’s sincere and who isn’t. In some ways I prefer it when they’re open with their insults. It makes it clear who I should avoid.”  
Dwalin clasped his hands together in an attempt to contain the anger that filled his chest.  
“What sort of things do they say?” Balin asked gently.  
“The usual,” she said with a sigh. “That I’m a trouble-maker, a vagabond, there’s even a rumour spreading that I’ve been bewitching Bard.”  
“What?” Dwalin asked sharply. “And they believe that drivel?”  
“Some of them are very superstitious,” she met his eye again with an exasperated expression. “They know I speak a different language, or I used to, they know I travelled in the south and then with dwarves. And then…” she trailed off.  
Dwalin leaned a little closer and a glance at his brother told him that Balin was mirroring him.  
“Go on,” Dwalin said as softly as he could manage, clasping his hands tighter.  
“Well,” her cheeks suddenly flushed red. “It’s stupid really, and it’s my own fault. It’s just Tilda wanted to hear a story before she went to bed and I – well, I had been thinking about my…my brother and…” she faltered once again.  
Dwalin said nothing this time, only waiting.  
“I…” she began again and her voice was barely more than a whisper. “I wanted to try and remember him without feeling empty, or guilty. I wanted to think of him and be happy for once, so I told her about…well you’ll think it’s mad if I tell you.” She shook her head and moved as if about to stand. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”  
“No, lass,” Dwalin said firmly, making her snap round to face him. “We’re not leaving until you tell us what’s wrong.” His words sounded harsher than he meant and he tried to soften his expression as her face turned pale.  
“What my brother means to say,” Balin calmly interrupted. “Is that you can tell us anything and we will believe you.”  
She paused, he gaze flickering between them.  
“You will?”  
“Of course,” Balin smiled.  
“It sounds mad even to me,” she said. “If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes I would never have believed it.”  
“We’ve seen many things that you would find unbelievable too I’ll wager,” Balin replied. “I doubt you could shock a couple of old dwarves like us, lass.”  
“Well,” she shifted uncomfortably. “If you’re certain?”  
When they nodded she lowered her gaze and continued. “When I was young, maybe six or seven, my caravan were in the Westfold, near the stronghold of Isengard. You know it?”  
They both nodded.  
“We were camped at the edge of the forests surrounding it, and I remember my father telling me that under no circumstances was I to venture into the trees, or even go near them. We couldn’t even cut the branches for firewood. When I asked why, he only told me that the forest was evil, and that many a fool had wandered in there and never returned. He said the trees would not tolerate any human presence, that they could communicate with each other and even move if they wanted.”  
“You are speaking of the forest of Fangorn?” Balin asked and she nodded in response. “That is a dangerous place for a travelling group to venture.”  
“I think it was to provide some deterrent for any Wild Men,” she replied. “Anyway, I was curious so when my mother put me to bed one night I snuck away into the trees. It was dark and frightening at first, but I wanted to see the moving trees, so I kept going. Eventually I got my wish and, indeed, the forest came alive. I watched the branches and leaves sway even though there was no wind, and I heard them speak. As I wandered further in, the branches parted to let the moonlight shine through. I saw roots move to allow a family of mice to hide from an owl and I heard the trees creaking and humming to each other. I don’t know how long I was in there, nor how I managed to get back, but looking back on it now I could swear that the trees were guiding me back, letting me follow the moonlight back to the forest edge. My parents were not at all happy when they spotted me walking out of the trees.”  
A small smile lit up Dwalin’s lips. Her face had softened considerable during her tale, her eyes had brightened, and she was smiling widely, though he knew she couldn’t tell. Her words conjured images in his mind that he thought could have belonged in a dwarfling’s storybook. He pictured a little girl with long copper hair, wondering through the trees in her bare feet and the anger he had been anticipating seemed to melt away.  
“Anyway,” she continued. “I never forgot it, and when my brother was old enough I used to tell him about it. When we left to go north I knew we would be passing the Greenwood, so I promised to show him. And when I told Tilda, she had the same look on her face that my brother used to have – as if they could see it already. I just wanted to have that feeling again, that I was giving a child something wonderful to dream about. Does that sound silly?”  
“Not in the least,” Balin answered. “But am I right in guessing that somebody disagreed?”  
At this, her smile faded completely.  
“There’s a woman who works in the bastion, as a housekeeper. She’s known Bard and the children for years but she hates me.”  
“Why?” Dwalin asked. “How could she?”  
“Prejudice,” she shrugged. “General superstition. She heard me telling the story and all but dragged me from the room. She said I should be ashamed of myself, that I was filling the child’s head with spells.” Her fists suddenly clenched and when she next spoke it was almost a hiss. “It’s not as if I’m telling her to go into the woods and search for talking trees! I’m just trying to get by day to day, if anything _she’s_ the one filling everybody else’s heads with lies about me. I would bet my own life she’s the one stirring things up with the others, telling them all I’m some sort of witch!”  
As soon as the final word left her lips a commotion burst forth from outside – the squeal of a horse followed by a loud grunt of pain and a thud of hooves against stone. In the split second it took for the dwarves to leap to their feet, she had disappeared out into the yard and they followed to see her running to grab the rope trailing from the horse’s head collar onto the ground.  
“Easy now,” she said in a low voice, pulling the animal back round to the stable door it had been standing next to. Beside her was the boy they had met on their way in, clutching his stomach and groaning.  
“What happened?” She asked him in a firm voice, looping the rope through a metal hoop set in the stone wall next to the door.  
“Dunno!” the boy gasped. “I was doin’ ‘is ‘ooves like you showed me. One minute ‘e was standin’ nice an’ still an’ the next ‘e was squealin’ like a mad thing and reared up. ‘Is ‘oof got me in the stomach!”  
“Let me see,” she took a step towards him but he backed away.  
“No, no,” he grunted, straightening up as best he could. “I’m fine, really.”  
She gave him a look that Dwalin could not read, but her exasperated sigh spoke for itself as she turned back to the horse, leaning down to pick up its hoof. It resisted at first, but after a few gentle words it reluctantly obliged. She swore when she saw the hoof.  
“You idiot!” she hissed and looked over her shoulder to the boy. “You gored the poor creature’s foot! I _told_ you, the middle part is sensitive! Weren’t you listening?”  
“’Course I was!” the boy growled. “Twas the noise _you_ were makin’ in there what startled him!”  
“I wasn’t making any noise!” she lowered the hoof and rounded on him. Despite being well over a foot taller than her, the boy backed away rapidly under her fierce glare. “You come and look at the state of his foot! He won’t be able to work for weeks!”  
“Why should I?” the boy shouted, raising a shaking finger to point at her. “It’s _your_ fault ‘e reared! My ‘and slipped!”  
“Oh don’t give me that -!”  
“Don’t you go sayin’ nothin’ more to me!” He yelled and moved into a defensive stance, making her stop in her tracks. With as much aggressiveness as he could muster, Dwalin stepped between them.  
“Listen yeh wee -”  
“Why don’t we all just calm down?” Balin interrupted, standing next to his brother. “Are you hurt laddie?”  
The boy stared wide-eyed at them both and then, after a glance over the shoulders to her, turned tail and sprinted out of the yard towards the street.    
They watched him go in utter confusion until a small snarl emitted from behind them. They turned to see her storming back towards the horse, who was now standing calmly, its injured hoof balanced lightly on the ground.  
“Of course, it’s going to be my fault,” she muttered darkly, picking up the horse’s hoof to take a closer look. “It could never be the fault of someone who’s only been working with horses for a few weeks, it must be the outlander who’s worked with them all her life…”  
She continued to mutter to herself the two dwarves edged closer.  
“Are yeh sure it’s safe for yeh to -?” Dwalin began to ask until she looked back to them and he was relieved to see her slight smirk.  
“You do know I’ve been doing this since I was seven?” she chuckled.  
“Aye, I know,” he smiled back and crossed his arms over his chest. “But yeh’ll forgive me for supervisin’ nonetheless.”  
She rolled her eyes but relaxed as she turned back to inspect the hoof. “I don’t suppose one of you could bring me a cloth and a bucket of water?”  
They both obliged and watched as she gently cleaned the small wound, each keeping half an eye on the horse, who snorted in discomfort but otherwise kept still at the soothing tone of her voice.  
“The wound’s not deep,” she informed them. “It shouldn’t need stitches. If I apply some salve every day it should heal in a week or two. But he won’t be able to work, not till it’s completely healed, in case it reopens and gets infected.”  
Dwalin took another look at the horse. It was tall, but lithe, with long legs and a slim build around its neck and rump.  
“Lass,” he addressed her as she lowered its hoof and stood up straight finally. “Not to question yer expertise, but isn’t he a bit skinny for farm work.”  
“Absolutely,” she said with a short laugh and patted the horse on the neck. “But he’s going to be a messenger’s horse. He’s a sprinter.” She turned to face them. “He’s not been broken yet you see? I planned to start with him tomorrow, but now that’s clearly not going to happen.” She cast a look towards the entrance to the stable yard, as if looking for the boy to make sure he had heard, before turning back to them.  
“Do you know about horses?”  
“Aye, a wee bit,” Dwalin nodded. “We’ve travelled a fair way with our ponies.”  
“Of course,” she nodded. “How could I forget?” Her laugh was humourless but her smile was still warm. “You’ve travelled a lot then?”  
A glance at his brother told him he needed to take this one and Balin immediately obliged.  
“Aye lass,” he smiled. “We’re old and craggy now, but we’ve seen our fair share of cold nights under the stars.”  
“Speak for yerself, ‘old and craggy,’” Dwalin muttered with a small smile that he was delighted to see her share.  
“Of course, you must know what it’s like,” she said, her smile growing wider. “Riding over the open lands and through the hills, with only the sun and the birds for company?”  
“Oh aye,” he nodded. “There’s nothing like it.” He paused for a moment before ignoring the trepidation in his gut and saying, “Most dwarves yeh meet will know plenty of travelling on the road, the good and the bad.”  
Her smile faded into a questioning gaze. He pressed on, feeling his brother’s eyes burning into him.  
“There’s the freedom, aye. And then there’s havin’ to live on the mercy and charity of others.”  
She was silent, but he could see the understanding in her eyes, even as her expression grew hard.  
“What I mean, lass,” he continued in a softer voice. “Is if yeh ever wanted to come to the Mountain, for a visit I mean, yeh’d find there no qualms about yeh that exist here.”  
She was silent for several long moments and Dwalin felt the pressure building in his chest; Had he gone too far? Had he ruined his chance? Was she about to tell them to leave her and never return?  
Finally, she released a breath and spoke.  
“Only I’m no dwarf.”  
“Aye,” Dwalin nodded. “That may be, but travellers are travellers and they have to stick together to survive.”  
The most peculiar feeling came over him, a sense of déjà-vu, but before he could think too much about it her smile returned, suddenly and warmly.  
“That’s exactly what you told me last time, isn’t it?”  
He blinked in confusion but this time his brother spoke.  
“Aye, it is lass.”  
Dwalin glanced at him to see him smiling back, just as widely.  
“Just before the ceremony.”  
Dwalin snapped back round to look at her, unable to stop the moisture filling his eyes at her smile. For just a moment, she was back.  
“You adopted me,” she said softly. “To keep me safe.”  
Even though he knew it was not a question, Dwalin nodded, trying to ignore the heat filling his face.

_ Cairi/Vana _

The sun was still high when I finally left the stables. With the young stallion lame there was no point in staying once I had treated his hoof. I said goodbye to Dwalin and Balin at the city gates. They were in such high spirits, even as they attempted to muffle it, but for once it did not worry me. I was happy myself. Now I knew why I cared so much about them. Not only were they my friends, throughout the time between my arriving in the Blue Mountains and my waking up after the battle; they were my family. My surrogate family in any case. The thought perhaps should have bothered me, but for now I was just happy that things were becoming clearer.  
I entered the bastion through the lower entrance into the kitchens, using the narrow staircases up to the corridor to avoid Prue. One long bath later I changed into a plain, dark green dress that Sigrid made for me and went downstairs to try and find them.  
A flurry of voices in the reading room led me straight to them – and into what was clearly an argument.  
“Da, I promised I would meet him!”  
“Then you’ll have to break it, won’t you?”  
“That’s not fair!”  
They did not seem to have heard me as I entered so I closed the door quietly and went to take a seat on the floor next to Tilda, who was perusing a book with a large picture of what appeared to be a large striped cat on the open page.  
“What’s going on?” I whispered.  
She turned to smile widely at me in greeting. “Sig promised to meet a boy later but Da’s saying no.”  
“Which boy?” I asked, unable to stop the grin coming to my face. “I didn’t know she was interested in anyone.”  
“His name’s Arran,” she told me, turning back to her book. “He’s a builder. His father’s one of the cloth merchants.” She continued to trace the outline of the picture with her finger. “Have you ever seen one of these?”  
“I haven’t.” I shook my head. “What is it?”  
“‘T-i-g-”  
“Sigrid, you’re not going and that’s final!”  
“Honestly, Da! I’m not eloping! I only want to meet him for a drink.”  
“You’re too young to drink!”  
“As if you weren’t doing the exact same thing at my age! And with Mam no less!”  
“If your mother were here she’d agree with me!”  
“No she wouldn’t!”  
“She would agree that it’s not safe for a girl to meet a boy in a city alone! If you really must go then Bain should go with you.”  
“Bain’s doing extra training tonight!”  
“Prue then.”  
“No!” she cried before glancing around and catching my eye. “What if Cairi comes with me?”  
“What?” Bard turned to face me.  
“What?” I said instinctively, feeling my face grow hot.  
“Oh, I didn’t see you there,” Bard said to me.  
“Cairi can come with me. She’ll make sure I’m alright, won’t you?” Sigrid gave me a pleading look, and I flushed under Bard’s stern gaze.  
“I mean…” I stammered. “I…I could, if…if that’s alright…”  
Sigrid turned back to her father and fixed him with the same pleading look. Finally he closed his eyes, tilting his head back in defeat.  
“Fine, you can go,” he sighed. Sigrid grinned widely and threw her arms around him.  
“Thank you Da!”  
He grunted but hugged her back. “Only for a couple of hours, I don’t want you home late, and no drinking anything stronger than cider.”  
Sigrid only nodded before breaking free and striding over to me. I stood up to accept her hug and she thanked me as well, my “you’re welcome” muffled by the material of her dress.  
“ _Sigrid and Arran sitting in a tree…_ ” Tilda sang softly, giggling as Sigrid nudged her sharply with her foot.

“So who is this boy?” I asked her on the way down the bastion steps after dinner.  
“He’s not a ‘boy’” Sigrid groaned. “He’s nineteen. He’s a builder, he helped rebuild the houses in the merchants’ quarter you know?”  
“But how do you know him?”  
“I saw him at the school house now and then when I was young,” she said. “But then his father moved them to a different part of town. He used to be a fisherman until his accident, then he became a cloth merchant.”  
“What sort of accident?”  
“One of the houses in the marketplace collapsed on him years ago. He lost his leg and couldn’t sail anymore.”  
“Oh, that’s awful,” I replied. “And his mother?”  
“She was a seamstress,” said Sigrid. “She taught him how to sew and he eventually set up a business in cloths and fabrics. She died in the fires.”  
“I see.” I nodded, my thoughts straying to the odd collection of images that occasionally visited my wandering mind; intense heat, water and figures huddled all together in front of me.  
“I think he likes me you know.”  
“I’m sorry?” I said, snapping out of my reverie.  
“Arran,” said Sigrid. “He always smiles when he sees me, and we’ve had some wonderful talks. He can make me laugh like nothing else!”  
“That’s always a good thing,” I smiled. “But you do have to be careful. I know I sound like your father, but it’s true.”  
“I know you both mean well,” she said, though her smile had faded a little. “But I trust him. He’s a lovely person, I know you’ll like him too.”  
“I’m sure I will,” I assured her. “But just keep your wits about you, that’s all I’m saying.”  
“As I said to Da, I promise I won’t do anything silly. I just really want to spend some time with someone who sees me as more than a daughter or a sister.”  
“I understand that,” I said as we rounded a corner into the main street heading towards the centre. “Someone who treats you like a person, first and foremost.”  
“Exactly,” Sigrid nodded, looking relieved. “Thank you so much for coming with me. It’s far less embarrassing being with a friend than with…” she trailed off.  
“A brother or a fierce, broom-brandishing housekeeper?” I offered with a grin.  
“I know it sounds terrible but -”  
“No need to explain,” I chuckled. “And I won’t stay with you all night. I’ll meet him and then I’ll leave you to it, but I won’t be leaving the tavern. I’ll sit where you can see me and if there’s any trouble just come and get me and we’ll leave straight away.”  
“Absolutely,” she nodded. “But there won’t be any trouble.”  
“I know,” I smiled up at her.

The tavern was loud but not too crowded, and the roaring fire kept the whole place comfortably warm. I was introduced to Arran, who was a few inches taller than Sigrid, slender but with definite muscles in his arms. His hair was light brown and messy, as if he’d come in from a windy day, but his clothes and were clean and his expression friendly. His eyes seemed to light up as they met Sigrid’s and he quickly bought us drinks before I made myself scarce. They sat at a small round table in the corner while I kept to an empty bench by the fire, sipping the slightly weak ale and studying my surroundings.  
I immediately clocked to door by which we had entered and another leading out the back, along with two open windows opposite the bar. Of the people milling about, none carried weapons. It was a strict rule that none were to carry weapons in the city, save those guards on watch duty. I recognised a few of them as farmers, recently gifted areas of the land officially by Bard, and many more as builders, but none I knew by name. A group of a dozen or so men and women on the far side of the tavern from me were watching me, a few with open looks of suspicion. I took a long drink from my mug and ignored them.  
“Hello!”  
I nearly leapt to my feet at the high voice that erupted into my ear but at once relaxed as I saw the source.  
“Anna! How are you?”  
“Very well, thank you! May we join you? You remember me husband Lorcán?”  
“Yes, I believe we met at the feast?” I stood to greet them both, holding my hand out to Lorcán. He blinked in surprise before shaking my hand.  
“That’s right,” he smiled, kindly. “You put on quite a show.”  
“In a good way, I hope,” I sat down and gestured for them to sit opposite me.  
“How are the horses settling in?” Anna asked me.  
Over the next hour we talked, joked and laughed, every so often I glanced over to Sigrid to find her still engrossed in conversation with Arran. Her eyes lit up when she looked at him and she never seemed to stop smiling. Several times he said something I could not hear and her cheeks flushed with delight. I smiled over at them, but for some reason the sight made my chest twinge with something akin to sadness. I could not quite work out why, but soon I found myself deliberately looking away from them.  
“Right, another round ladies?” Lorcán asked, reaching for my empty mug. I glanced out of the window and saw to my horror that it was pitch black outside.  
“Thank you, no,” I replied and got to my feet. “It’s late and I should be getting Sigrid back.” I looked over to find her still deep in conversation and felt slightly guilty.  
“Ah well,” he shrugged. “It was good to see you.”  
“We should do this again some time,” Anna joined him with a wide smile which I returned.  
“Absolutely,” I nodded. “I’ll see you later.”  
They bade me farewell and I eased my way through the growing crowd to get to Sigrid, who did not even notice me until I tapped her shoulder.  
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I think we should be heading back.”  
“Oh,” she looked very disappointed. “Are you sure?”  
“Quite sure, it’s well after dark.”  
She gave a sigh and turned back to Arran who was clearly sharing her regret.  
“It’s alright,” he said to her. “You should go. I don’t want to upset your father.”  
“I’ve had a really wonderful time,” she told him and reached over to take his hand. “I hope we can meet again soon.”  
“Of course,” he grinned with delight. I began to feel like an intruder. “Come and see me tomorrow afternoon? I’m working on the farmhouse on the south side of the city.”  
“I’ll bring us lunch,” she offered. “I’m sure that will be alright, won’t it Cairi?” She turned to me with a hopeful smile.  
“I’ll put in a good word with Ba – that is, King Bard.” I said and Arran grinned at me.  
“I’m very grateful, my Lady.”  
“Oh, gods, no,” I couldn’t help spluttering with laughter. “I’m no lady. But you’re welcome all the same. And thank you for the drink.”  
“It was my pleasure,” he said before getting to his feet and offering his hand to Sigrid who took it eagerly. She rose to her feet and smiled at him with such light in her eyes that I began to feel that strange twinge of sadness again. I could see the affection in her gaze – and in his also – and for reasons I could not fathom I felt the weight of a loss, of what I did not know.  
“See you tomorrow,” he said to her.  
“Yes, see you then,” she replied, and then reluctantly released his hand and followed me out of the tavern.  
The night air was cool and refreshing after the warmth of the tavern, and several people were still in the streets, talking and drinking away.  
“Thank you again for coming with me,” Sigrid said over the lull of chatter surrounding us.  
“You’re welcome,” I smiled round at her. “He seems very nice.”  
“Oh he is,” she said in a dreamy voice that entirely contradicted the down-to-earth, working woman I had gotten used to being with every day. “I feel so comfortable around him, as if I can talk about anything. And gods, does he make me laugh.”  
“Handsome too,” I smirked as she blushed.  
“Well, there is that,” she grinned, lowering her voice as we approached a small crowd on the corner of the street. I glanced up to find several men leant against the wall of one of the semi-crumbled buildings. Several bore cocky smirks that I immediately labelled as suspicious.  
“Ladies,” one of them acknowledged us. Sigrid smiled back politely. I ignored them.  
“I really like him, Cairi,” she said.  
“I noticed,” I gave her a small smile. “Have you told Bard?”  
“Not yet, though he can probably tell. I’ve never asked him if I can meet a man before.”  
“Do you think he wants to court you properly?” I asked with a half glance behind me. The men were still watching us, their muttered words creeping along behind us.  
“… _pretty…_ ”  
“I don’t know, but I think I want him to.” Sigrid replied, blushing even harder.  
“You either do or you don’t,” I said.  
“ _…could do…”_  
My muscles tensed but still we kept walking.  
“I do then,” she nodded. “But I don’t know what Da will say.”  
“ _…such pretty hair.”_  
They were definitely behind us.  
“Well, you’ll never know until you ask,” I told her.  
“ _…and long legs, perfect for…”  
_ “I will, but surely I should wait for him to ask me?”  
“Bard?” I frowned.  
“ _…go on, go on!”  
_ “No,” Sigrid groaned teasingly. “Arran, of course.”  
“How ‘bout it then darlin’?” A hand landed on the small of my back. “What d’you say -?”  
His sentence was cut off and replaced with a loud cry as I grabbed his arm, forced it back and bowled into him, my elbow connecting sharply with his groin. He tumbled back and fell to the ground, gasping for air and curling up on his side, his hands pressed tightly between his legs.  
“Touch us again and I’ll rip it off,” I snarled loudly, looking up to the startled on-lookers. The drunk men backed away a few paces, looking horrified while the others around us simply stared at me.  
“That goes for all of you,” I said loudly. “Anyone so much as follows us, King Bard’s wrath is nothing compared to mine. _Dearg-amadan!_ ”  
I turned to see a very shocked Sigrid staring at the man on the ground in awe.  
“Come on,” I said gruffly and led her away.  
“What was that?” she whispered.  
“They were going to rape us,” I growled. She stopped dead and I looked around to find her eyes full of fear.  
“What? They wouldn’t…they’re my father’s men…”  
“They were drunk, following us and muttering about what they’d like to do with us.”  
“How can you possibly-?”  
“I heard them, come on!” I hissed and pulled her along with me.  
“Cairi are you sure that –?”  
“Would you rather I waited until they had surrounded us and had hold of you?” I snapped. “No man who respects women would drink and loiter on a corner to follow unaccompanied women down the street. Hasn’t your father ever taught you that?”  
Sigrid didn’t reply, but I saw her glance behind her often as we made our way back up. As we walked the cool air cleared my head and I began to regret my words. My actions I stood by, and would still when the word of them inevitably reached people like Prue and, of course, Bard. However, I could not shake the nasty feeling that my use of foreign insults would come back to haunt me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: The Show Ponies - The River


	12. Summer's End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm the worst, I'm sorry :(

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT NOTE: violence

_ Vana/Cairi _

They did.

My words. My antics. My behaviour. My mistakes. There were many terms used to describe what I had done. That night came back to haunt me in so many ways.

Sigrid had been understanding, as she always was, but I could see the guarded expression she now took with her everywhere. She had hidden it behind a careful mask when we reached the bastion and Bard was none the wiser when Sigrid simply said we’d had a wonderful time and gone to bed. I said nothing to contradict her and when I approached her the following morning she asked me not to say anything.   
“It was hard enough convincing him to let me go out last night. If we tell him he’ll send an armed escort wherever I go.”   
I was tempted to tell her I thought that was a good idea but I held my tongue. It was useless, however, as word that the king’s vagabond companion had attacked an innocent man attempting to escort the princess home soon spread throughout the city and, within two days, to Bard. That was, I suppose, to be expected; what I had not been expecting had been his reaction towards me the following morning when he asked for a private word.   
“What were you thinking?” he had hissed like an aggravated cat as we sat in his study after breakfast.   
“Excuse me?” I had replied, still seething from hearing the version of events that had reached him. Bard leant forward in his seat.   
“You attacked a man in the street without any provocation!”   
“Without any -? He was following us! Should I have waited until he had attacked us first?”   
“What made you think –?”   
“You weren’t there!” I nearly shouted. “You didn’t hear the things he was saying?”   
“And what were they, pray?” He straightened and folded his arms impatiently.   
“Just…vile things.” I repressed a shudder. “They followed us and one of them went to touch me, what was I supposed to do?”   
Bard’s look of anger was beginning to turn to unchecked fury.   
“And Sigrid?”   
“They never touched her. I didn’t let them.”   
“Can she verify everything you said?”   
I sighed. “Not exactly. She didn’t hear them.”   
“She did not? But you did?”   
“Yes.”   
He did not look convinced. “So, you’re telling me,” he said slowly. “That these men followed you, whispered ‘vile’ things that only you could hear and then one of them grabbed you so you defended yourself?”   
“Yes – well, no.” I rushed to explain. “Yes, they followed us, yes they said things that Sigrid couldn’t hear but they didn’t grab me. I felt a hand on my back so I reacted.”   
“On your back?” he repeated, his frown deepening. “And then you hit him and shouted threats?”   
“Of course I did!” I was starting to feel as if I was on trial. “I wasn’t going to stand by and let him hurt us!”   
“Cairi,” Bard closed his eyes briefly and when he opened them again his anger had faded into tiredness. If anything, that made me tense even more and my knuckles glowed white as I gripped my chair harder.   
“Why would I lie?” That made him look at me.   
“I never said you -”   
“But you don’t believe me.”   
He sighed. “I believe you, but you must understand how this looks?”   
“ _Looks?_ ” I growled.   
“You have no proof. No one, not even Sigrid who was right next to you, heard what these men said. People saw you attack a man who was walking behind you and heard you threaten them with harm and use insults in a language they do not understand. You haven’t exactly made any friends here, there is no one who can stand by your story.”   
My head was spinning with fury. I could not believe what I was hearing.   
“You’re the king, aren’t you?” I snapped. “If you tell them my actions were justified they must believe you!”   
“If I abuse my power like that I will lose the trust of many of my people.” Bard shook his head.   
Unable to stand the injustice any longer, I leapt to my feet.   
“And what about my trust? You know your people haven’t exactly been so welcoming as you have! What am I supposed to do? I will not beg favours and grovel to people who hate me!”   
“Nobody hates you, Cairi,” Bard said in a low voice as he brought a hand to his brow, as if trying to rub the fatigue away.   
“Oh, don’t they? You haven’t heard the things Prue’s been saying to me! Or any of the other folk in town!”   
“Prue is a very dear friend -”   
“AND I’M AN OUTSIDER!” I yelled, releasing any semblance of control I had been holding on to. “Did you know when I first came she accused me of trying to seduce you! Did you know there are plenty around the city saying I’ve been casting a spell on you! I’ve done nothing but try to repay you for your kindness! To become as much a part of the town as everyone else! I train your horses, I help clean your castle, I love your children as dearly as I loved my own brother! But is it enough? NO IT IS NOT! NOTHING EVER IS!”   
I slammed my hands on his desk, sending a shooting pain through my right wrist but it felt like nothing compared to the burning look in Bard’s eyes as he quickly got to his feet, towering above me and breathing heavily with anger.   
“OUT!” he bellowed in my face. “You will never speak to me like that again, do you understand? Get out!”   
The silence that followed was broken only by the sound of my heart hammering in my ears, the heavy air between us making it hard to breathe. I could feel my hands shaking and tears welling in my eyes and so I fled, refusing to let him see. My wrist hurt horribly as I wrenched the door open and headed for the stairs down to the hall.

The sun was hot that day, with no clouds to shield the land from its rays. I took shelter in Angus’ stall where he lay in a doze after our ride. I lay back against his soft chest, smiling slightly as he gave a small grunt.   
“You sound like a pig,” I said to him softly. “Small wonder seeing as you eat like one.” I reached over to scratch the base of his ears – his favourite spot – and he gave a resounding snort of pleasure. The movement jarred my wrist and I brought it back to examine it once more. I had bound it when I reached the stables and gently untied the fabric to examine it again. Sure enough, the skin was starting to darken around the joint. I would have to ride one-handed for the next few days. I stared at my bruised wrist, trying not to think about what would await me at the bastion later tonight. I had been so happy yesterday, the worries of the town’s chatter pushed aside for a few hours.

Kíli had met me in the stables for our usual visit and we had ridden almost to the borders of the forest. A small hillock had provided us shelter from the summer winds and had shielded the view of the dragon carcass which still lay upon the lake. With Angus and Daisy grazing nearby, we had taken advantage of the sun and had a small picnic; Kíli had even snuck two flasks of ale from the Mountain.   
“Tell Bombur I borrowed these and I will be stuck in the library with Balin and Ori for a month!”   
“Borrowed?” I chuckled. “Do you plan on giving it back?”   
He grinned widely and raised his flask in a toast. I returned it and took a long drink.   
“Mmm,” I couldn’t help purring at the taste. “Gods, I’ve missed that.”   
“You have?” he looked at me curiously. He had the little glint in his eye that he always tried to hide when he was hoping for me to remember something. His determined restraint always made me feel guilty, as if I was withholding something from him, but I had learnt to cover it with a smile, if only to stop him feeling the same way.   
“Well, I didn’t realise it until now, but yes I have.” I glanced down at the flask and my smile grew wider. “Have you missed me flooring the lot of you in the Drunken Miner’s tavern?”   
He threw his head back with a guffaw of laughter that seemed to envelop his entire body as he slapped his thigh.   
“I think we’ve all missed that,” he grinned, letting out another peal of laughter that made me join him.   
“I even had Bofur under the table.”   
“You had us all under the table as I recall,” he grinned. “I’ve never seen Dwalin so impressed.”   
“Aye, those were good days,” I took another swig of ale. “I miss them.”   
“As do I,” Kíli said, so softly I thought perhaps he might not have meant for me to hear. I took another drink.   
“It’s strange,” I said, still looking at the flask in my hands. “Those memories, and I suppose they mostly are memories, but sometimes they feel more like dreams, and then other times they’re really clear.”   
“What do you mean?” Kíli asked and I finally looked round at him. All trace of laughter was gone from his face, but that small glint had returned to his eye.   
“It’s hard to explain,” I said, glancing back down at my flask. “It’s as if…as if there’s a veil over my mind, and sometimes it lifts and I can see everything clearly, so I know it’s true as if I were seeing it right then and there. But sometimes it doesn’t, and everything seems a little…distorted, or dark, as if the lights have gone out and all I can see are shadows. And I think I know what’s happening, but I can’t be sure. Does that make sense?” I took a deep breath and looked back round at him.   
His face was carefully blank, but I could see his iron grip on his flask as he took a short swig of ale.   
“I think so,” he finally answered. “And you can’t fully trust what you see until the veil lifts?”   
“No,” I said, feeling as though I were delivering bad news, though I had no idea why. There was a long silence that followed and both Kíli and I drained our flasks of ale, before finally he spoke again.   
“Can I ask you something?”   
“Of course,” I answered without hesitation. He looked at me then, and I watched the sunlight dance across the skin on his cheeks and through the rich mahogany of his eyes, like the light across a wave from the sea.   
“Does this…” he gestured slightly at nothing in particular, before apparently rethinking his words. “Does my visiting help?” I swallowed slightly, suddenly wishing I had not drunk the last of my ale.   
“Yes,” I said softly, feeling a heat grow in my face that had nothing to do with the sun. “As do Balin’s and Dwalin’s.” I considered my next words carefully before finally saying: “In fact, I feel much more at home here with you than I do in Dale.”   
That made him straighten slightly, but he made no reply. After a few moments, I smiled with repressed nervous laughter.   
“Is it terrible that I seem to have much more in common with dwarves that I do with my own kind?”   
“No,” Kíli shook his head. “It makes sense, you lived with us for so long.”   
“Perhaps you’re right,” I replied, but the words that I meant to say next stopped short of my lips. Even as my mind seemed to scream for me to say them, my instincts reared up and halted them. My expression did not seem to have fooled Kíli.   
“What is it?” he asked in a low voice.   
Once again, I attempted to speak, and once again my words failed me.   
After a few moments of silence Kíli tried again.   
“Are…are you not happy there?”   
There it was; the question I always dreaded. Without warning my eyes filled with tears and I quickly sat up and turned my head away, clearing my throat loudly in a pretend cough. I heard Kíli sit up properly behind me but he said nothing, waiting for my response. I coughed again and took a deep breath, determined for my voice not to break.   
“I’m happy enough,” I told him.   
“But not as you were?” he asked, gentle and yet pushing for an answer.   
I sighed deeply as one tear broke free, escaping down my cheek but strangely, it did not frighten me. Though I did not know why, I had no qualms letting Kíli see it, and so I turned to face him.   
“No,” I shook my head softly and wiped the tear away. “The people of Dale they…they hate me.”   
When he didn’t answer, I looked up to find his expression still determinedly blank, though his jaw was clenched.   
“Why do you think that?” he finally asked.   
“How could I not?” I scoffed even as more tears began to escape.   
“They talk behind my back, they call me a vagabond, a tramp, a witch. They don’t trust me to be near them, they try to turn the few who are friendly against me -”   
“And Bard?” he interrupted as I sniffed and wiped my eyes again. At the mention of his name I sighed.   
“He’s been so kind to me. And I feel terrible repaying him in this way.”   
“What do you mean?” Kíli asked, edging forward slightly, his face still deliberately blank even as his eyes began to darken.   
“He’s just…” I shook my head slightly. “He loves his people, and he wants to do right by them, but even his most loyal followers doubt his attachment to me.” I scowled. “And it doesn’t help that his servant’s trying to convince everyone that I’m trying to replace his wife.”    
At this Kíli cleared his throat loudly and I looked around to find his face turning red.   
“Oh, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said – I mean, I’m not, if that’s what -”   
“No,” he cut me off, shaking his head slightly. “No of course I don’t think that.” He kept his eyes firmly on the ground and I sighed once again.   
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be burdening you with all this.”   
“Don’t,” Kíli said softly, looking up at me once again, his face relaxing into a soothing expression that made me feel instantly calmer. “Don’t apologise. You should be talking about this, I can see it’s been weighing heavily on you.”   
I attempted to smile, feeling the weight slowly lift from my shoulders, but there was a final thought that I knew I would have to get out.   
“Do you think…?” I began but faltered. I needed the right words.   
“What?” he asked, his voice soft and kind. I looked closely at him for a moment, watching his long hair flicker as the edge of the wind caught it from around the shelter of our hillock. I smiled slightly and tried again.   
“It’s just, Dwalin told me that if I ever wanted to go to – or back to, I suppose I should say – back to the Mountain, that I would be…well, that it would not be a problem…?” I tailed off, watching Kíli’s eyes widen slightly though, as ever, he kept his expression firmly under control. When he realised I was not saying anymore he licked his lips and coughed once before answering.   
“You…you would be more than welcome,” he said in a low voice though a smile soon broke through and his entire face lit up with it. I released a breath I did not realise I was holding and grinned back at him.   
“You mean it?”   
“Absolutely,” he said, setting his flask down and moving onto his knees. The wind caught his hair more, blowing it freely behind his head. “Fíli would love to see you, and Thorin and everyone else! I could show you some of the Mountain if you like! Only if you want to, of course.”   
His smile faded momentarily but returned immediately when I laughed at his enthusiasm.   
“Like you did before?” I asked. If possible, his smile widened.   
“You remember that?”   
“I believe you referred to yourself as ‘the best and most handsome guide,’” I chuckled as his face flushed.   
“Well,” he cleared his throat but he could not keep that smile of his away, to my joy. “Was I wrong?”   
“You were certainly the best guide who offered me a tour,” I winked. His laughter seemed to seep through me like the heat from a warm fire and I wanted to keep it going.   
“How would like me to take you now?”  he asked, a little more tentatively.   
“I would love to,” I said, shaking my head sadly. “But I must get back. I promised Tilda I would help her with her reading.”   
His kind smile only just covered his look of disappointment. “Of course, I won’t keep you,” he said and we got to our feet. I leaned down to pick up the flask and my coat before turning to follow him down to the ponies. I did not see the burrow in the grass until my foot tumbled into it and I fell forward with a loud “oof!” only to have two arms wrap around me.   
“Careful!” Kíli said sharply, pulling me back up. As I turned, he turned a different way and I suddenly found myself only a few inches from his face. I caught only a flash of his deep brown eyes before he retreated, letting go of me as if I had burned him.   
“Sorry,” he said quickly. “I’m sorry.”   
“It’s alright,” I said quietly, averting my eyes to the ground as my face flushed. “It’s these rabbits that should be apologising! Or is it moles do you think?” I crouched down to have a closer look at the hole.   
“Rabbits, I think,” Kíli said. “I doubt even your foot would fit in a mole’s hole.”   
“Are you saying I’ve got tiny feet?” I grinned up at him and he grinned back.   
“You’re a tiny person,” he shrugged.   
“That’s rich coming from a dwarf!” I stood and pretended to smack him on the shoulder.   
“I’m short,” he clarified. “As I should be, you’re the human who’s -”   
“- the size of a dwarf,” I finished, making his grin fade slightly in surprise. “I know.”   
“Just so,” he nodded as we continued towards the ponies.   
“It’s a good sign though,” I said. “That you’re short?”   
“That there’s rabbits!” I rolled my eyes and smiled round at him. “It means there’s life in this land again.”   
“That and Dale’s farmers had better watch their new crops.” He smiled back.

I finished brushing Angus’ back and dropped the straw back to the ground. Kíli’s smile stuck in my mind like a painting pinned in front of my eyes. I found myself picturing the smallest of details; the way the corners of his mouth drew up, almost squeezing his eyes shut, his teeth shining white against the dark stubble adorning his skin. The lines under his eyes and across his cheeks, the slope of his nose. His long dark hair flowing in the summer winds. I began to comb Angus’ mane with my fingers, but instead of his dark hair, I saw Kíli’s flowing between my fingers, soft and thick as I braided it.   
“Why would I be braiding it?” I muttered out loud, making Angus’ ears prick up. “I must finally be going mad, Angus.”

_ Kíli _

Kíli and his brother sat on the balcony overlooking the entrance hall, Fíli still working on his sandwich and Kíli already on his apple.   
“Are you sure you don’t want some,” he grinned as he held it up to his brother whose face rapidly turned green.   
“Kee, if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times, after that barrel ride I will never eat an apple again!”   
“I don’t know why,” Kíli shrugged, taking a large bite. “I ‘aven’t los’ my tas’e for wine.”   
“You were almost unconscious,” Fíli shrugged. “I was all too aware of what had been in my barrel.” He gave a small shudder that made Kíli chuckle through his mouthful of apple.  
“I had no idea the elves had a taste for cider.”   
“Tell me again,” Fíli said, wrapping up the remaining half of his sandwich and determined to change the subject. “When did Vana say she was coming here?”   
The pain in Kíli’s throat had very little to do with the huge amount of apple he swallowed.   
“ _Cairi_ ,” he emphasised. “Said she would ride over tomorrow.”   
“Are you nervous?”   
“Why should I be nervous?”   
“Because you might finally be getting what you want and it terrifies you?”   
Kíli’s blood surged within him at his brother’s words, blazing red hot with anger and he turned away so Fíli would not see.   
“She wants to see the Mountain. That is all.”   
“She told you herself that she’s not happy in Dale.”   
“She is still adjusting.”   
“And that she feels more at home with us.”   
“She has not been in the company of so many Men in a long time.”   
“Kíli.” Fíli’s voice was suddenly much gentler and Kíli turned to face him. His expression was kind, a subtle reminder that he was not trying to make Kíli angry, he was simply being an older brother. It helped him to relax a little.   
“You were so happy when you returned yesterday. What’s changed?”   
“I suppose I had time to think it through,” Kíli sighed, turning the half-eaten apple over in his hands. “The Mountain is just another strange place to her, and there’s only a few of us she can call her friends. How would it be so different to Dale?”   
“Because you’re here,” Fíli answered instantly. Kíli met his eye for a moment before shaking his head.   
“Please don’t start Fíli.”   
“I’m sorry but I still do not understand why you won’t tell her how you feel.”   
“It would do neither of us any good, and it would only frighten her.”   
“You don’t know that -”   
“I do,” he insisted. “Do you not remember how long it took her to trust again after those guards? To her the experience is as fresh as it was ten years ago, and to have all these accusations about her and Bard…” he tailed off as the anger simmering within him threatened to rise up again. “I will not put her in that kind of position.”   
“You don’t have to tell her everything,” Fíli suggested. “I understand where you are coming from, but what if you simply tell her that you have a lot of affection for her? Give her a little information at a time? You might find that she feels the same way?”   
“And if she does not?” replied Kíli. “It will make her uncomfortable with our friendship, which I will certainly not risk.”   
He watched his brother’s expression lose its resolve until finally, he nodded in agreement.   
“If that is what you wish,” he conceded. “May I ask one more question?”   
Kíli huffed but nodded reluctantly.   
“If, on the off chance, she does come to live here, will you be content to see her every day, work, dine and live with her in friendship? As you do with Ori, Nori, Bofur…?”   
Even though it pained him – a sort of dull ache, like that of a bone broken and healed in the wrong place – Kíli found himself nodding.   
“The only thing I have ever wanted is for her to be happy. If I could see that every day, even if it was not by my hand, yes I would be content.” He met his brother’s eye again, and though Fíli nodded in understanding, Kíli could see a great sadness in his gaze that he knew meant he did not believe him.   
“Then what would you say,” Fíli ventured. “If I told you that I never saw her happier than when she was with you?”   
Once again, Kíli’s blood seared with an unforeseen heat, and he shoved the remainder of his lunch back in its wrappings.   
“I would say you’re flogging a dead pony, brother,” he grunted and got to his feet. “And that was two questions.”   
“Kíli,” Fíli stood to face him, both his expression and tone deadly calm. “Last time you were not forthcoming with your feelings, and you nearly left her behind -”   
“If I had she would never have been hurt!” Kíli snapped.   
“- and it turned out you both felt the same way and almost wasted the opportunity. Do you want to make the same mistake this time?”   
“It was completely different!” Kíli hissed.   
“You’re right,” Fíli nodded. “You are both older and wiser, you know how precious your time in this world is.”   
“It is not a matter of wasting precious time, it is a matter of preserving what little of our relationship I have left.”   
“It is a matter of you being terrified of losing her for good, which I promise you, you would not.”   
“You cannot possibly know that Fíli!”   
“It seems impossible, I know -”     
“It seems like that knock to the head has affected more than your face,” Kíli growled, immediately regretting his words as Fíli flinched, his hand moving automatically to the thick scar on his forehead. “I am sorry, Fee, I didn’t mean -” he was cut off as a movement to his left caught his eye and he turned to see the last person he could ever have wanted to see.   
“Apologies my lords,” Fáin gave a low bow. “I did not mean to interrupt.”   
“Of course not,” Kíli muttered darkly as Fíli turned to face the dwarf-lord.   
“Did you need something, Fáin?”   
“Not at all, my prince, I merely wanted to inquire whether there was anything I could do for you?”   
Unable to bear even the sound of his voice, Kíli turned and marched away, his mind turning to the much more pleasant topic of tomorrow; he tried to decide whether she would prefer to see the raven’s roost or the library first.

_ Vana/Cairi _

Satisfied with the young horse’s healed hoof, I patted his neck and exited the stable, double-checking the lock on the door. I swore this one always watched as I worked the door, and as bright as he was I would not have been surprised to return the following morning to find a mass escape on my hands. It was dark now, well past dinner. There was still some light at the base of the sky, mostly hidden behind the great walls of the city, but the stars were clear and the torches in the streets were lit. The rest of the stable hands had gone home long before. I sighed; there was no avoiding it, I had officially run out of things to do. Time to go back.   
I turned to face the street, the anticipation of what awaited me in the bastion, even if only in the morning, making my blood run faster in my veins. There was no avoiding it, intellectually I knew that, but it did not stop me from turning around and heading back to make a final check on Angus. As I neared his stall I could see him pacing within; the stable door was large enough to conceal all but the top half of his face but I could hear his hooves clattering against the stone floor and the rustle of the straw as they disturbed it over and over.   
“Angus?” I called softly as I reached the door. At the sound of my voice he snorted loudly and pawed the ground, making a loud clanging sound of metal on stone.   
“ _Dè thàinig ort?”_ I went to unlock the stable door.   
The prickling on the back of my neck made me freeze – the unmistakable feeling that someone was watching me. The breath caught in my throat and I knew I had to turn, but in the back of my mind I couldn’t help thinking, or hoping, that it was just the night breeze. I hesitated a second too long. The hand that slammed over my mouth muffled my scream and the arm that locked around my waist pinned my arms against my sides.   
“Ssh! Easy now,” a voice rasped in my ear. In front of me Angus reared and kicked his front legs against the stable door. I struggled hard but the man’s grip was like iron. It was definitely a man, that I ascertained from the size of his arms and the fact that my head was now pressed against a solid chest.   
“This’ll all be over soon,” he said softly and I felt one of his arms loosen as he began to drag me towards an empty stall. I took advantage of the opportunity and darted sideways but his remaining arm held mine fast and as he yanked me towards him I could hear the ring of metal as he drew a dagger from his side. Instinct kicked in and my left hand shot forward to grip his right wrist as he aimed for my side. I heard the material of my shirt rip and felt the ice-cold metal at my side but no pain. I pushed his arm back, letting loose a growl as I did so and even in the dim light I could see the shock on his face as I forced the dagger away from me. His own sense of purpose appeared to take over, however, and he released his hold of me and wrenched his arm free of my grip to slash wildly at my neck. I ducked and dodged to the side, grabbing the first object I could find – a bucket – and swinging it hard at him. It hit him in the abdomen and he retreated. Some sort of unknown, unchecked impulse surged within me and I dropped the bucket and charged at him – _I need to get that dagger!  
_ I grabbed his dagger-wielding wrist with both hands and pulled it towards me sharply, spinning on the spot so my back was to him and yanking him forwards. He tumbled headfirst over me and landed hard on his back, his wrist still within my grasp. He grunted loudly in pain and tried to get up so I dropped heavily on top of him, my knee pinning his chest. His free hand shot up to grasp my hair and he pulled hard, making me yell in as my scalp seared with pain. The wrist I held struggled and began to push towards me but I pushed back, forcing my weight on it from above to drive it down towards his neck. My attacker’s strength was palpable, pushing back against me with all the force he could muster but I persevered, gritting my teeth and almost groaning with effort as blood and adrenaline filled my arms and hands. I was not going to lose this fight.   
There was some resistance at first when the blade of the dagger reached his neck, as if it was unwilling to pierce its owner’s skin. When it finally did, it was like poking a hole in a water skin. Thick red blood leaked out freely around the metal of the blade, and at first his strength seemed to increase in a final bid for freedom. Soon, within seconds, it faded considerably and my eyes darted from the dagger to the face of my attacker.   
He was not old, only in his thirties I guessed. His eyes were dark blue and wide with fear. His hair was long, dark and filthy, as if he had not washed it in days. His moustache and beard were overgrown and slightly matted, now growing thick with blood as it poured from his open mouth. In that single moment, my instincts cleared, the adrenaline seemed to grind to halt and a heavy sense of dread descended on me as the light left his eyes and his chest ceased to move.   
_I killed a man._   
My hands released the dagger immediately as if it was poisonous and I scrambled backwards. My stomach wrenched with nausea and my head swam as if I had been knocked out and was coming around from a period of unconsciousness.   
_I killed a man._   
Angus was still pacing heavily and frantically around his stall.   
My chest heaved as a thousand images flashed in my mind; blood, snow, blades, whips, fire, teeth, claws, death…   
Great furred beasts chasing us across the plains – _wargs!_ Frantic screeches and growls and clammy, clawed hands scrambling all over my body, the goblin king’s whip slicing my back into pieces. Cruel blades flying at me from all directions, my body bleeding and aching beneath blows from weapons and armour, the goblin’s arrow piercing my chest.   
My chest seemed to freeze in place, I could no longer draw air into my lungs, only see and hear things I had thought – or prayed – only to be nightmares. I had no idea how long I sat there as my panic finally began to subside.   
I had never killed a man before, only orcs and beasts that had tried to kill me.   
_He tried to kill me._   
The words echoed around my head, as clear as if somebody had spoken them in my ear, and it took me a few minutes to realise that in fact I had spoken them aloud.   
“He tried to kill me,” I repeated, slowly leaning forward and crawling back towards his body.   
He was wearing regular clothes; a shirt, trousers, worn leather boots and a coat that looked years old. His clothing was not poor, but definitely not fine either. The dagger – no, I could not look at the dagger. My hands shook so badly that it took me four attempts to unbutton his coat, and I began to search the pockets outside and in for…something. Anything to tell me something more.   
“Oi!”   
I snapped up at the sound of the guards, meeting their horrified gaze with my own before looking back to the dead man whose body I was searching. Once again, Angus began to kick at his stall.


	13. Trials and Tribulations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cairi's in jail...not to mention deep shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, I'm doing my best, but life... :(

_ Thorin _

Thorin resisted the urge not to drum his fingers on the desk. Fáin was droning on yet again about the mining regulations that previously existed in Erebor prior to the dragon, as if he had even been there, and he could see Balin patiently biding his time to point out that their current regulations were not only safer for their workers, but also did not stem from a king whose mind was driven only towards treasure. Thorin had learned not to enter these arguments himself – his temper would not take it. Instead he sat quietly, something he disliked almost as much as the ever burning anger that lingered in the back of his mind. He would need a good sparring session later if he was to make it through the rest of the day without breaking something. The sharp knock at the council room’s door came as a sweet relief to him and he sat up straighter as one of the guards entered.  
“Yer pardon mi’lords,” he said gruffly as he went swiftly towards Thorin. “I’ve an urgent message for the king.”   
“Yes?” Thorin nodded as the guard reached him. He leant down to whisper in Thorin’s ear.   
“The princess of Dale is in the main hall my king. She claims she has an urgent message for yeh.”   
Thorin frowned as he recalled the older daughter of the bargeman – no, the King now. He could not remember ever speaking to her, or her to him, aside from a ‘thank you’ and ‘you’re welcome’ exchanged in Lake-town.   
“Escort her to my study immediately,” he ordered quietly so the others could not hear. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Fáin leaning forward in his seat. The guard nodded and went to it immediately as Thorin got to his feet. “I must beg your pardon my lords, I’ve an urgent matter to attend to. Lord Balin, you have charge of the council.”  
“Very good, my King.” Balin nodded.   
“Is there something -” Fáin began but Thorin cut him off.   
“Thank you, no. Please direct any questions to my advisor.” With that he shut the stone door behind him and marched as swiftly as he could towards his study.

He did not have to wait long before the door to his study opened and Sigrid appeared, still wrapped in her travelling cloak and soaking wet.   
“Thank you, Bero,” Thorin nodded to the guard who bowed once and closed the door behind Sigrid – who promptly sneezed loudly.   
“I beg your pardon, my King,” she said, fumbling in the pocket of her skirt. Thorin quickly withdrew his own handkerchief and handed it to her. She took it with muffled thanks before sneezing again.   
“My apologies,” she began but Thorin waved her down.   
“Please keep it,” he said quickly. “How long have you been in the rain?”   
“It has not stopped since early this morning,” she mumbled into the handkerchief, blowing her nose once before looking up at him. He only then noticed the redness around her eyes and the rumpled, frazzled appearance of her hair and clothes. She had clearly ridden here in some great distress.   
“What’s wrong, child?” he asked, before catching himself. “My lady, I should say.”   
“Oh never mind that,” she shook her head. “You must help, it’s Cairi! A man is dead and they found her too. She had the knife and she was covered in blood and she says he attacked her but the guards say -”   
“Wait, slow down,” Thorin held up a hand to stop her but lowered again when he saw it was shaking. “Is she alright?”   
“As far as I know,” Sigrid’s eyes began to fill with tears. “But they won’t let us see her. Da’s forbidden it. I didn’t know where else to go!”   
“Where is she?” he demanded.   
“In the prison beneath the bastion,” she answered, apparently not affronted by his tone. “Everyone’s saying she murdered him, but I don’t believe it.”   
“Who is she supposed to have murdered?” Thorin could feel his heart beating faster at the images, the horribly familiar flicker of anger igniting at the back of his mind.   
“One of the farmers.”   
“Why would she do that?” A look of horror dawned on Sigrid’s face.   
“She didn’t!”   
“I know!” In his impatience he had to resist the temptation to roll his eyes. “But what reasons are they giving?”   
“All sorts!” she cried, her face contorting in anger. “That she’s mad, evil, a witch, a spy for the orcs, it does not matter!”   
“And what has your father done about this?”   
“He has ordered she remain in prison until a trial can be arranged.”   
“A trial?” Thorin growled. “He is the king, is he not? And Va – Cairi is his guest!”   
“They were calling for her execution!” cried Sigrid. “This was the best compromise he could come up with.”   
This did nothing to ease Thorin’s rage and he turned away from her, forcing deep breaths into his lungs in an attempt to calm himself. After a few moments he turned back to Sigrid, who was watching him with an air of forced calm, though the distress was still clearly etched into her young face.   
“You should return to the city, my lady,” he told her. “I will do what I can, you have my word. May I arrange an escort for you?”   
She seemed to deflate as she exhaled, closing her eyes briefly.   
“Thank you, but I can make it back myself. Just please help her.”   
“I will,” he promised her before moving past her to open the door. He waited for her to exit before following her, calling to the guard over his shoulder. “Bero, summon Prince Fíli to my study while I escort the princess to her horse. I’ll be right back.”   
Bero bowed and marched in the opposite direction towards the stairs.

By the time Thorin returned Fíli w  
as already waiting inside.   
“We have a problem,” Thorin said quietly before his nephew could even open his mouth. “V-Cairi has been imprisoned.”   
“What?” Fíli frowned. “On what -”   
“Murder,” Thorin interrupted, waving down the protests he knew was coming. “Apparently a farmer is dead and they believe it was her doing.”   
“But why -?”   
“I have no idea. I need you to go to Dale today, as soon as possible. See if you can find out what is going on.”   
“Why would King Bard listen to me?”   
“He won’t, you are a Dwarf of Erebor, your opinion on Dale’s legal proceedings is neither here nor there, but you can use your eyes and ears and bring any information back to me. Then we can come up with some sort of plan to get her out of there.”   
Fíli was speechless, the paleness of his face the only giveaway of his shock as he straightened his expression.   
“I should bring Nori, he could -”   
“No, I do not want any activity the Men could label suspicious. You were due to visit the king this week anyway with the last of the payments, take it with you now. I will ask Glóin to bring it to you personally. I know I can trust you to act as though this is nothing but business.”   
“Yes, uncle,” Fíli nodded but the deep frown above his eyes soon returned. “Does Kíli know?”   
“Not yet,” Thorin sighed. “And he won’t until you bring us more answers.”   
“Uncle,” Fíli groaned, his stress showing more clearly now. “You need to stop treating him like a child. He is going to find out.”   
“Yes he is, because I will tell him when we know more of what we are dealing with. I will not risk him tearing down to the city and provoking more unrest towards Vana.”   
“Cairi,” Fíli corrected him softly.   
“Yes, well,” Thorin shook his head slightly. “The point is we need to get her out of there. Now, do as I bid you.”   
“Yes, uncle,” Fíli nodded. “I’ll be gone within the hour. Just, one more thing?”   
“Yes?”   
“Have you told Dwalin?” At this, Thorin sighed heavily. Kíli’s imminent rage he knew he could handle, but his best friend? He knew Dwalin would never do anything against his orders, but could he justify telling him now and not his nephew?   
“I will,” he finally answered Fíli. “Once you’re gone.”

_ Vana/Cairi _

The prison in Dale had clearly not been touched since Bard and his people had moved in. Despite the manner in which Dale had originally fallen, the cells were damp and cold, so much so that I was finding it hard to breathe properly. It was also impossible to keep warm and I was shivering so hard that my teeth were chattering to the point of hurting. No one had spoken to me since I’d been in here, not even the guards I could hear chatting behind the door into the cells. I was tempted to call out and ask what time it was, or for some food, or perhaps just to shout a few choice words, but instead I settled for pacing, trying to summon any morsel of warmth that might still be coaxed out from my exhausted body. I had managed to wash the worst of the blood from my hands with the water jug they kindly shoved through the cell door earlier, but my clothes still stank of it. I was beginning to grow used to the smell, but the image of the man’s face was still in the forefront of my mind, clear as if he was in the cell with me. Yet around that were the images – or memories, I was starting to realise – of blood and snow, pain all around me and all over my body; and the feeling of utter desperation forcing me up the hill over the ice. I wrapped my arms closer around me, the darkness and cold of the cell growing heavier.

“This her?”   
My head snapped up as the door the prison opened with a deafening squeal. Tiny rays of grey light were trickling through the high windows of the cell, and I could see water trickling down the walls from the rain. I got to my feet as two guards appeared at the door of my cell. They were tall and young, barely of age, but the rage on their faces mirrored that of the most seasoned soldiers. I supposed they were the replacement for the night guards.   
“You the murderer?” One of them barked down at me.   
“No,” I said in a low voice, my muscles tensing in case they entered the cell.   
“Don’t talk to her,” one of the guards from last night grumbled.   
“Just take the watch so we can get some sleep.”   
“She stinks,” the second guard said, his nose wrinkling in disgust. “Is that the blood?”   
I couldn’t help but scoff under my breath but I refused to break their stares.   
“Why’d you do it?” the first guard demanded. I focused on him next but said nothing _It won’t be worth it,_ I told myself determinedly. _They won’t believe you._   
“Answer me you stupid bitch!” He slammed his fist against the bars, making them rattle. “Why’d you kill ‘im?”   
“Enough!” The older guard snapped, grabbing the boys by the straps of their armour and herding them out of the door, leaving me alone once again.

The already dim light was getting lower still and still I kept pacing. I could allow myself to get cold, or tired. Even a short life of living in caravans teaches you that. I could not lose control, not now. My resolve was almost destroyed completely when, once again the horrible squeal of the door being opened resonated around the cell and I had to squeeze the tops of my arms with my hands to stop myself screaming.  I turned to face whatever guard had come to gawk at me this time, but instead I found myself face to face with Bain.   
“What are you doing here?” I asked, shocked at how hoarse my voice was from the cold.   
“I can’t stay long, I’m sorry.”   
“You shouldn’t be here at all!” I stepped up to the bars as Bain reached into his coat and pulled out half a loaf of bread, a few pieces of ham and a water-skin.   
“I’m sorry it’s all could get.” He looked at me sadly as he passed them through the bars.   
“What about the guards?”   
“They won’t disobey a direct order from me, but Da has ordered no one to approach you.”   
With no surface to put the food on, I clutched it more firmly as I spoke.   
“Has he decided anything?”   
“He’s with the guards now, the ones who saw you…” Bain trailed off as his face turned a little paler before clearing his throat loudly. “And some of the town representatives. He’s trying to negotiate with them.”   
“Negotiate?”   
“Well, many of them want…” Once again his voice faltered, giving way to look of fear that felt like a stab in my heart.   
“They want me gone,” I finished, and he swallowed hard before nodding. “Some of them are calling for your execution, but Da’s forbidden it.”   
“Oh.” The stab turned into a solid weight threatening to pull me to the ground and down beneath the earth. “Well, that’s something I suppose.”   
“I’m so sorry Cairi.” I glanced back to Bain who looked on the verge of tears.   
“It’s alright,” I tried to assure him, but my voice was so weak I could not have convinced little Tilda. “How are your sisters?”   
“Tilda doesn’t know what’s happening but she knows something’s wrong, and Sigrid,” he paused to glance towards the door before leaning in close to me and whispering: “She rode to the mountain first thing after breakfast.”   
“She what?” I gasped, almost dropping the food. “Why?”   
“She thought they could help.”   
“But,” I groaned loudly, ducking my head.   
“I’m sorry but I should go,” Bain said apologetically and I attempted to smile reassuringly as I looked back up at him.   
“It’s fine, thank you for the food. Please don’t get into trouble on my account.”   
“Everything will be alright,” he told me, his face set in a determined expression. “Da will sort it out.”   
“I’m sure he will,” I replied, failing to sound convincing even as I kept the smile on my face.   
“I’ll order the guards to make sure you have plenty of food and water,” he promised before pulling the large, squealing door open and leaving me alone once again.   
_I’m sure they’ll be more than happy to oblige,_ I thought to myself, leaning back against the damp wall and sinking to the floor. Heaving a sigh, I sat cross legged, keeping well clear of the puddles now forming under the tiny gap in the wall above, and balanced the food on my knees. I dug into the bread first, barely chewing it as I filled my empty stomach and trying not to think about the fact that I hadn’t eaten since breakfast the day before. I glanced up towards the gap above; I could see it was still raining outside, by the amount of water leaking in. _I hope Sigrid doesn’t catch cold,_ I found myself thinking, and it immediately stayed my appetite. _What would she say to the dwarves? Would she speak to Dwalin? Balin? Kíli?_ _Oh gods… What will they think of me? They’ll never want to see me again. He’ll never speak to me again…_ I let the remainder of my meagre meal fall into my lap and shut my eyes against the dark, dank sight of the cell, focusing instead on the image of a bright, cheeky smile surrounded by soft, dark hair billowing in a soft breeze.

_ Kili _

She had not come.

He tried not to let it bother him; perhaps she had forgotten, perhaps there was an emergency with one of the horses, or with one of the children. Perhaps she had fallen sick. That thought had been nagging him all day, no matter how many times he reminded himself that the last time she had needed him they had sent for him. He had been in the forges most of the morning, but he spent most of the afternoon wandering the entrance hall, assisting with odd jobs to pass the time until she arrived – only she had not. He ended up accepting defeat and had found himself down in the stables with the ponies. As the evening wore in, he thought he may as well head back up and bumped into Nori in one of the southern passageways.   
“Evening Nori,” he stopped to greet him.   
“Evening,” Nori grinned at the sight of him and leant a little against the wall. He was no longer limping quite so badly, Kíli noticed, but he never passed up an opportunity to take the weight off his bad leg.   
“I thought Va – I mean – Cairi was visiting today?”   
“Aye,” Kíli nodded solemnly. “So did I. She never arrived.”   
“Strange,” Nori frowned. “No word why?”   
“Nothing,” Kíli shrugged. “She probably forgot, or had something else to do.”   
“That doesn’t sound like her.”   
“Well,” Kíli cleared his throat. “I should head back or I’ll miss dinner. Will I see you at the tavern tomorrow night?”   
“Always,” Nori nodded with a wink. “And I’ll do my best to tear Ori away from his scrolls.”   
“Good!” Kíli managed to smile back. “We don’t see enough of him these days.”   
“You don’t have to remind me,” Nori sighed and waved goodbye. Kíli bade him good night and continued his journey up through the mountain. That was one thing he certainly missed about the fortress in the Blue Mountains, it was not nearly so high as Erebor, despite the vast amount of complaining Vana had done on her first journey up to the royal quarters. The thought made Kíli smile with thinly veiled laughter for a moment, but only a moment, before he remembered everything else and the familiar weight returned to his chest. His feet suddenly felt much heavier going up those stairs and he gave a deep sigh at his own foolishness once again.

By the time he reached the council passages he was starting to regret missing lunch, even though the last thing he felt like doing was eat. He knew the road this led down all too well by now, but just as he came to the corner of the passage he spotted a figure entering one of the council chambers. The golden reflection of the dwarf’s hair told him it was his brother. He and Fíli had not spoken much since their heated conversation yesterday and Kíli felt the all too familiar twinge of guilt. _I should apologise again,_ he told himself and started towards the door, which was still open a sliver.   
“- promised me you would tell him!”   
“Fíli, we should not be discussing this here.” Thorin’s voice filtered through the door, heavy with weariness.   
“Why have you not told him?”   
“I have not seen him all day, what was I supposed to do?”   
“Look for him?” Fíli’s sharp reply bit back. “I’ve been in Dale all day trying to find out what’s happened and you could not spare half an hour to track down your nephew?”   
Kíli frowned hard at their words, his hand placed on the carved bronze doorknob.   
“We can tell him later, when he returns for dinner,” Balin’s voice joined the discussion. “Can you tell us what you found out?”   
He heard his brother give a loud, frustrated sigh.   
“I waited all morning for Bard, and it took a lot of persistence before he finally told me. There is to be a trial.”   
“A trial?” Thorin growled. “He does not think she did it?”   
“He did not say what he believed, only that his people wanted worse.”    
Kíli could feel his blood turn to ice at their words, supposing exactly who they were talking about and he reacted almost automatically. He opened the door and strode in, slamming the door shut and watching all three faces in front of him turn to face him with suitably guilty expressions.   
“What is all this?” he growled. “What do you need to tell me?”   
“Kee,” Fíli began.   
“It’s Vana,” Balin cut him off, and Kíli’s gaze snapped to the older dwarf’s. Even now her name was like a knife. “She is imprisoned the bastion for murder.”   
His blood seemed to freeze solid. This was too ludicrous to be believed. He looked from Balin to his uncle and to his brother, waiting for the first laugh to come for this was surely some sort of joke. The three dwarves only waited, their faces as dark as the stone walls surrounding them.   
“Have you seen her?” he finally asked Fíli. “No, King Bard would not allow it. I tried to argue her case but he was adamant. There is to be a trial tomorrow.”

_ Vana/Cairi _

A series of shouts came from outside the door and I stopped abruptly. I couldn’t understand what the voices were saying, until finally the door opened and a beautifully familiar dwarf stormed in.   
“Kíli!” I cried and ran to the cell door, grabbing the slimy bars with both hands.   
“There you are!” He came to the door and peered in through the bars with wide, stormy eyes.    
“Kíli, whatever you’ve heard, it’s not true!” I told him everything, my voice desperate, begging him to believe me. “They’re saying I murdered him, but he attacked me! I was defending myself -!”   
“I know, I know,” he told me, his voice calm despite the thunderous look on his face. “I’ll sort this out, I promise. I’ll get you out of here.”   
I breathed a sigh of relief but the air left my mouth in a cloud of condensation, reminding me how cold it was in the cell and I couldn’t hold back another shiver. Kíli placed a hand over my fingers and almost recoiled.   
“You’re freezing!” he hissed and immediately began to remove his coat.   
“Oi!” one of the guards called sharply. “No passing things to the prisoner!”   
Kíli swore loudly in Khuzdul before turning to him.   
“It’s just a coat! Can’t you see she’s frozen? Or should I inform your King that you let a prisoner freeze to death?”   
The guard grumbled and Kíli rolled up his coat to pass it through the bars.   
“Here, take this.”   
“Thank you.” I put my arms through and wrapped the coat around me, sighing deeply at the warmth that now surrounded me. It smelled like him too and I immediately felt a little better.   
“Kíli, what’s going to happen now?” I couldn’t keep the fear out of my voice.   
“I’m going to speak to Bard and he’s going to release you.” He glanced towards the guard before turning back to me and adding in a hushed voice. “That’s if I don’t kill him first.”  
“No, wait, don’t leave yet!” My voice broke with the fear I had been holding in for so many hours and I had to swallow hard to keep my eyes from filling with tears. Kíli’s expression softened slightly and he stepped closer to the door, placing his hands back on the bars.   
“I won’t,” he promised, his voice softer now. “Everything’s going to be alright.”   
“I don’t know about that,” I gulped. “They want my blood.”   
“They’re not having it,” he almost growled, though I could see him working to keep his face straight. “We just have to get through tomorrow. That is all.”   
“Tomorrow?”   
“They haven’t told you?”   
I shook my head, my stomach clenching horribly.   
“Thorin told me there is to be a trial,” said Kíli. “But Bard will release you beforehand if I have anything to say about it.”   
“I don’t think you will,” I groaned, burying my face in my hands. “I don’t think he will either.”   
“He’s the king is he not?” Kíli’s toned sharpened.   
“He will not override his people’s concerns.”   
“That’s not good enough!” Kíli snapped, letting go of the bars and pacing backwards. “By Mahal, I could strangle him! Letting you freeze in here like this -!”   
“I _killed_ someone, Kíli!” I almost shouted, tearing my hands from my face to look at him. He looked almost as distressed as I felt.   
“He attacked you,” Kíli said, his voice slightly calmer. “You were defending yourself.” He repeated my own words but still I was not reassured.   
“I didn’t even think about it,” I told him. “I just did it.”     
Kíli’s shoulders sagged slightly as he took a deep breath before he slowly came back towards my cell. He seemed to be thinking hard about what to say.   
“You did what you had to,” he finally said. “You’ve done it before.”   
I shook my head fiercely at this.   
“Orcs and beasts that tried to kill me -”   
“The Wild Men,” Kíli interrupted me gently. “When we were in Dunland, you killed several of them. As did I.”   
I stared at him, frowning hard as I searched my mind, and he watched me carefully as I did so. Finally, I saw it, a dark campsite ransacked and Kíli lying on the ground, blood pouring from his leg as a huge, hulking figure towered over him.   
“Oh gods,” I almost gagged, backing away to lean against the wall of the cell. “I’m a killer.”   
“V-” The sound out of Kíli’s mouth made my head whip up to look at him but he had already cut himself off. His eyes closed briefly before he took a deep breath and spoke again, carefully. “Cairi, you’re a fighter. You protect people. Sometimes the cost of protecting is killing.”   
Even though my instincts raged against it, I thought back to that night once more.   
“He – he was going to kill you,” I whispered. Kíli nodded.   
“That man was going to kill you. Nobody can blame you for protecting yourself.”   
“The people of Dale are certainly going to try,” I muttered.   
“Then we’ll tell them the truth,” he insisted. “And we’ll keep telling them until they hear us.”   
“What If they don’t?” I almost flinched at how pathetic I sounded, but Kíli’s expression never faltered – kind, yet determined.   
“They will. Balin, Dwalin and Fíli will be here tomorrow. We won’t let anything happen to you.”   
“I don’t want any of you to get into trouble,” I began but he shook his head sharply.   
“We are Dwarves of Erebor and you are our comrade. You are a member of the Company of Thorin Oakenshield and nobody will dare lay a hand on you while we are by your side.”  
The strength and valour of his words were only accentuated by his stance. Even though he was half the size of the cell door, in that moment he seemed like a giant, and despite the agonising uncertainty weighing in the back of my mind, I allowed myself to hope.  


	14. The Spectacle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trial. Oh my days...

_ Dwalin _

Dwalin had never been angrier in his life. Of all the nights he had to be on watch duty.   
As soon as his brother told him what had happened he had been on his pony and galloping to the city, in the wake of the rising sun. Now he stood in Bard’s study - which he had not so graciously stormed having overtaken his escort into the bastion - looking up at Bard, which only made him angrier.   
“I’ve already told you,” Bard groaned, rubbing a tired hand over his forehead. “I hate this as much as you do -”   
“Oh don’ give me that!” Dwalin growled. His voice was quite hoarse from the shouting he had done earlier, not to mention back in the mountain. “Is it _yer_ daughter in that prison?”   
“No,” Bard replied with a glare. “She is my friend, and the woman who loves my children. I am only doing what I would were it anyone else.”   
“But it’s no’ anyone else! It’s Vana!”   
“Cairi,” Bard corrected him, which only fuelled his anger. “And it does not matter who it is. The laws of this city are clear: any person accused of a crime has the right to a trial before the townspeople. She will be able to tell them her side.”   
“An’ yeh think they’ll care?” Dwalin glowered up at him, his voice dangerously low. “She’s told us yeh know.”   
“What does she tell you?” Bard asked with a deep frown.   
“Yer people don’t care about her. She’s told us how they treat her, how they stare and whisper, the comments and the insults. Yeh think they’ll want to listen to anything she has to say?”   
“I’m aware that not everyone has been welcoming,” Bard nodded curtly. “But they would not sentence an innocent woman for murder.”   
“So you agree that she is innocent then?”   
Even through his exhausted expression Bard’s fury began to show.   
“Of course I do. I do not believe she would kill any of my people without need. But the man she…” he tailed off, leaning back to sit on his desk. He braced his hands on either side and ducked his head, almost putting him at eye level with Dwalin, whose fists were still clenched at his sides. Luckily for Bard, he had not had time to fetch his knuckledusters.   
“I knew him,” Bard finally said. “His name was Rafe, a fisherman by trade before the dragon. I used to see him at the market all the time. He has a wife and a son Tilda’s age. They’re devastated.”   
“He should’ve thought of them before he tried to kill Vana,” Dwalin growled.   
Bard raised his head slightly to glare at him.   
“What would you have me do?”   
“Release her at once.”   
“I cannot do that.”   
“Why not?”   
“If she does not have a chance to defend herself then my people will only assume her guilt. I think I can convince them to allow her to go free, perhaps with some promise of labour or fines paid, if she would only show remorse for her actions and plead self-defence.”   
“And if she doesn’t manage to convince them?”   
Bard gazed at him for a moment before closing his eyes in defeat. “She must.”   
“Not good enough!” Dwalin hissed and began to pace. His blood was pumping furiously and it was taking every morsel of his willpower not to smash something, be it the chairs or the Man in front of him.   
“Why d’yeh no’ send her away with us? ” he asked.   
Bard looked up at him, frowning.   
“Banish her, you mean?”   
“It would satisfy yer people, and she would be free.”   
“And if she will not go?”   
“Yeh think she’ll want to stay after this?” Dwalin gestured and knocked a nearby candlestick off of one of the tables. “With people who despise her?”   
“We don’t despise her,” Bard shook his head fiercely. “I care for her deeply, my children love her and my people will see that soon enough.”   
For once, Dwalin could only shake his head in response. Bard was in so much denial that words seemed to be doing no good.   
“The trial will go ahead,” Bard insisted. “You should be there, if you wish -”  
“If I wish, he says,” Dwalin muttered darkly. “Yeh think I want any of this?”   
“I think you’ll look for any excuse to take her away,” Bard glared. “But if you remember, she chose to stay here.”   
“Aye, when she was injured, scared and confused,” growled Dwalin. “Yeh think she would still choose the city now?”   
“I think she would choose to be with her own kind,” said Bard.   
“We _are_ her own kind!” Dwalin was dangerously close to shouting again.   
Bard was breathing heavily, a mixture of fury and exhaustion emanating out of him with every rise and fall of his chest.   
“The trial,” he said softly. “Will go ahead as planned. She deserves a chance to speak.”   
A low growl erupted from Dwalin’s chest as he stalked towards Bard, like a wolf to a deer.   
“I will be there tomorrow,” he told him. “And Kíli, my brother, and Fíli. And if there is _any_ sign that she will be hurt, I will carry her out of here myself.”   
Bard only sighed.  

_ Vana/Cairi  _

The rain had not stopped all night, battering the stone of the streets above me and dripping noisily down the walls of the cell. Not only had I had very little sleep, the dampness had seeped all the way through my clothing and seemingly into my skin as well. Even Kíli’s coat was beginning to lose its warmth. I huddled against the corner of the cell between the damp wall and the iron bars. I could see the door clearly from here, and I kept my eyes fixed on it; the fact that there was enough light for me to see meant that it was morning now, and the trial would begin soon.

Finally, thankfully, a small flurry of voices outside was followed by the unholy screech of the ancient prison door opening. Percy appeared, carrying a package wrapped in cloth. I got to my feet, trying not to think too much about the pitiful expression on his weathered face.   
“Mornin’ miss,” he said in a low voice.   
“Percy,” I greeted him back with a nod.   
“The king asked me to bring you this,” he held out the package. “He thought you should change before the…” he trailed off, looking down at my blood-stained shirt.   
I nodded again.   
“Thank you.”   
Percy appeared to attempt a smile before approaching the cell door. He was followed by a guard who reached past him with a set of rusty keys to unlock the cell.    
“Don’t try anythin’,” he told me warningly. I only glared. Once the door was open, Percy wordlessly extended his arms inside to hand me the package. I unwrapped it to find a neatly folded pile of pale green material.   
“A dress?” I couldn’t help raising an eyebrow at Percy.   
“The king thought it best if you look presen’able,” he replied. His eyes seemed to droop with what he was so clearly thinking. I sighed and picked the dress up; I would have to pick my battles today.   
“And where am I supposed to change?”   
Percy turned to the guard and marched towards him.  
“Out, shut the door.”   
The guard obeyed and then I was alone in the damp prison once again. I spotted an old stool in the corner and dumped the dress on top of it. I glared at the offensive thing as I pulled the crusted, smelly shirt over my head. Of course it would be a dress, as if this was not going to be humiliating enough. I knew exactly what Bard was thinking; I was to play the part of the distressed girl and garner sympathy from a town full of people who hated me. It was never going to work. I pulled the dress on and slipped my boots off, standing on them to avoid the cold floor as I pulled my trousers off. The slight weight in them made me pause, and I traced it to the right-hand pocket. Reaching in, my fingers closed around the rune stone.   
The door opened once again as I was pulling my boots back on and Percy re-entered.   
“Are you ready?”   
“No,” I sighed but stood as straight as I could before following him out of the cells. The warmth of the torchlight in the corridor was a welcome change.   
“Where is the trial to be?” I asked Percy.   
“In the square before the bastion,” he answered.   
“Has it stopped raining at least?”   
“For now, aye.”   
“I suppose that’s something.”   
We continued in silence towards the narrow staircase, spiralling up into the bastion and Percy gestured for me to go first. I began to hear the hum of conversation far above my head, and swallowed hard at the thought of how much noise there must be for it to travel so far down.   
“Is Kíli up there?” I asked in a low voice.   
“The Dwarf prince? The king thought it best they watch from the balcony in the reading room.”   
“And they agreed to that?” I turned to frown at him.   
A brief smile flickered across his face before he answered. “Not at all. They’re in the square with the others, ready to break you free of this place I’ll wager.”   
I breathed a sigh of relief at the thought, Kíli’s words echoing through my mind.   
“ _Nobody will dare lay a hand on you while we are by your side._ ”   
My right hand clenched into a fist at my side, seeking the comforting feel of the small runestone nestled in the centre of my palm.

The doors opened into bright sunlight that blinded me – and roars from a crowd that deafened me. I forced my eyes opened and wanted to run back inside. There were many more than I thought there would be. Men, women and children filled the square, some having clambered onto the ruined fountain in the middle while others sat on the walls adjacent to the steps. I glanced to my left and found Bard, standing in his dark blue, regal tunic with his sword strapped to his hip. His face was set in a determinedly neutral expression, but I thought I saw him give the briefest of nods. Bain stood next to him, mirroring his father in every way, save the clear worry in his eyes. I tilted my head up to the balconies and, to my dismay, saw Sigrid and Tilda pressed against the window of the turret I knew to house Sigrid’s bedroom. The latch was open and I knew they could hear everything.   
I tried to ignore the curses that the crowd were throwing my way as I searched through them, until finally I found him. Kíli was standing far over to the right, near enough to the front that I could see his dark, unwavering eyes set upon me, and his small reassuring smile that helped me breathe again as I waited for the crowd to fall silent.   
A flash of gold next to him drew my eyes to his brother, standing proudly even beside the Men that towered over him, and behind them stood Dwalin, with his fierce gaze burning holes into the backs of the crowd. Then I saw another familiar face, and another, and another – they were all here, the twelve of them. Thorin’s company. The sight filled my chest with the warm glow of hope.   
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Bard raise his hand and the crowd immediately quietened, though I could still hear distinct mutterings amongst them all. I chanced it and met a few of their eyes – it had been a long time since I had seen such hatred.   
“Cairi,” Percy’s loud, clear voice echoed across the square. “You have been brought before King Bard, Prince Bain, the council and the people of Dale to answer for the crime of murder, of which you are accused. How do you plead?”   
“Not guilty,” I answered in as clear a voice as I could.   
The effect was immediate; the crowd seemed to rise up in their fury, pointing, spitting and yelling as many foul words they could think of.   
“ _Liar!_ ”   
“ _Murderer!”  
_ “ _Witch!_ ”   
“ _Foreign bitch_!”   
“ _Whore_!”   
Their words drew images to the forefront of my mind of bloody bedsheets and armoured fists, and suddenly it was all I could do to keep breathing properly. I stood on the damp stones of the square and blinked in the sunlight streaming through the thin white cloud. There was not an inch of blue to be seen. I looked briefly to my right and found Kíli; he looked no calmer than I felt, but I found I could breathe easier.   
“Cairi!” Another voice called my name and I turned to find what must have been the judges, standing on the steps beside him. At their call the crowd quietened a little and I thought to myself who might have chosen them.   
“Tell us what you were doing in the stables on Thursday night?”   
The man who spoke to me was old, with a slight hunch in his back. I knew him to have been part of the Master’s old council.   
“I was taking care of the horses.” I answered.   
“So late?”   
“Yes,” I nodded. “One of them is lame at the moment. I needed to tend his injuries.”   
“You are speaking of the newest stallion, with the injured hoof?”   
“Yes.”   
“How did it come to injure itself?”   
“What does that have to do with anything?” Percy cut in.   
“Just let her answer the questions,” I heard Bard say quietly to him.   
“He…” I sighed, knowing exactly where this was going. “His hoof was gouged by one of the stable hands, Ivan.”   
“You saw this?”   
“No, but -”   
“Then how do you know it was him?”   
“He was picking his hoof and then I heard the horse squeal -”   
“Lies!” A voice cried from the crowd and I glanced back to find the source. A young man was shuffling forward through the throng, a group of his friends following closely. By the dark smears on his face I deduced he was one of the smiths. Amongst the group was Ivan himself, his face turning a dark shade of red as the crier pulled him in front. “Ivan told us ev’rythin! Twas your frenzies what spooked ‘im!”   
“ _My what?_ ” I demanded, only to be waved down by the old judge.   
“Are you coming forth as a witness, young man?”   
“Aye,” the smith nodded vigorously before pointing a blackened finger at me. “She was mutterin’ and hissin’ in that language of ‘ers. An’ then she shou’ed and the ‘orse went mad and kicked Ivan!”   
“Is this true?” The judge looked intently at Ivan.   
“Aye sir,” he nodded. “The ‘orse reared and the ‘ook got stuck in ‘is ‘oof!”   
“That’s not true-!” I began to protest but was once again waved down.   
“We are straying from the point,” the judge said flatly. “Back to the matter at hand. Can you tell us what happened next?”   
Feeling the blood run hotter through my veins, I took a deep breath in an attempt to calm down.   
“I finished with the injured stallion,” I continued as clearly as possible. “Then I went to check on my own pony, Angus -”   
“A wild thing that one,” a female judge with a hooked nose addressed her fellows. “The other stable-hands won’t go near him.”   
I bristled, but held my tongue. I could not lose my temper.   
“Go on,” another judge finally said.   
“I got to the door, but before I could enter he came up behind me. He put his hand over my mouth and tried to force me into one of the empty stalls. When he went for the knife I tried to get away but he held on and tried to stab me. I grabbed his knife and forced him back but he would not relent.” I kept my voice as level as I could, never breaking their gaze. I could feel everyone’s eyes upon me; Bard’s determined frown, Sigrid and Tilda’s wide and fearful gazes, the burning glares from the crowds; and somewhere to my right the comforting, anchored regard of the dwarves, the thought of which put me at some ease.   
The silence was stagnant with the hostility emanating from the people before me and it was several long moments before the hunched judge spoke again.   
“And why would this man try to kill you, girl?” he asked with a drawl that almost made his question sound rhetorical. “Had you offended him in any way?”   
“No,” I frowned. “I had not met him before.”   
The mutterings amongst the crowd grew louder.   
“Did he say anything to you?”   
“No,” I shook my head. “Only that…” I trailed off, the words dying in my throat, and something, though I did not know what, drew my gaze to Kíli who was watching me intently.   
“Yes?” The hooked nose woman snapped impatiently.   
“That it would be over soon,” I concluded, my eyes still fixed on Kíli as his entire body seemed to tense.   
“So you expect us to believe,” the hunched judge’s voice rang out over the square. “That a young farmer with a family to support and a good reputation, decided to accost, assault and attempt to murder a girl with whom he had no prior connections to, for no apparent reason?”   
The dread that had settled deep in my bones was offset only by the growing anger that seemed to course through my blood faster with every moment of this farce. I turned back towards the judge, keeping my face as straight as I could.   
“I cannot speak for the farmer, nor his reasons. I can only tell the truth of what happened.”   
The uproar from the crowd was instant and almost violent, their shouts and jeers shooting through the air like arrows. The barrage of insults and protests made me flinch back involuntarily and I cursed silently, fighting hard to keep my breathing level, even as my chest was clearly heaving with the effort.   
“ENOUGH!” Bard’s voice rang out, as clear as his authority, over the square and the shouting died within seconds, even as many continued to murmur agitatedly among themselves.   
“Let us hear from the witnesses,” he announced, looking seemingly everywhere but at me. Finally, he turned to the judges. “Pray, continue councillors.”   
“Very good, Sire,” the fourth judge, who had been silent this whole time, stepped forward and addressed the crowd. He was tall, even more so that Bard, and gangly, with shoulder-length grey hair hanging from beneath his black cap. His robes were threadbare and a murky green colour, perhaps older than even he was. I had only seen him a few times; he spent most of his days in the libraries and book rooms in the bastion and throughout the larger houses in the city.   
He regarded both myself and the crowd before us with the same guarded expression, only the contemplation in his eyes kept his face from appearing blank of any thought.   
“Let us begin with the witnesses for the prosecution.”

To say the proceedings went from bad to worse was an understatement the size of the Mountain itself. I couldn’t help but think how general the term ‘witness’ must be given that there were no actual witnesses to the attack. Instead, several people took turns in standing between the judges and I, giving evidence in favour of my attacker. A fellow farmer told the crowd of his friend’s good character, of how he would laugh off the summer heat in the fields and play with his son in between tasks. His wife spoke of his loving nature, his devotion to his family and to the townsfolk, and though I could not look at her for long, I could feel her eyes burning into me as she spoke her final words:  
“He could not have done this.”   
The response I longed to give burned to a crisp in my throat, and I kept my eyes fixed to the ground as she stepped back into the crowd.   
Several of the guards came next, but they had very little to say about Rafe.   
“I saw her fight in the camp after the battle – when the orcs attacked us again. She was faster than any Man I’ve seen, wore no armour, no helmet, not even shoes. I saw her kill dozens of orcs, with no human strength nor speed. There’s no way an experienced scout could sneak up on her let alone poor Rafe. But it would have all too easy for _her_ to surprise _him…_ ”   
I bit back my response, nearly opening my lip with my teeth.   
Then came the stable-hand, Ivan, who climbed the steps and stood before the crowd, explaining that I would often speak to the horses in my strange language.   
“Mostly she uses it to calm them,” he addressed the judges before turning to the crowd. “But sometimes, ‘specially with her own beast, she’ll start sayin’ somethin’ and he’ll get all antsy, like he’s disturbed. And he won’t let none of us near him! Not unless she’s there. He nearly knocked Ed’s teeth out once, when he tried to feed him! That day with the stallion, I could hear her muttering away with them-!” He pointed almost savagely towards the dwarves, each of whom bristled under the gaze of the crowd; I could have sworn I heard Dwalin’s growl from where I stood on the steps.   
“- and there was a cry of somethin’ I didn’t understand and suddenly the beast spooks and I’m on the ground with a hoofprint in my gut!”   
“Maybe you should have been focusing on what you were doing rather than eavesdropping on a private conversation.” The words left my mouth before I could stop them and I turned to see Ivan glaring at me with his furious, red face.   
“The accused will be silent!” The female judge’s shrill voice easily drowned out the angry murmurs of the crowd.   
“Nevertheless, we are beginning to move in circles,” the old judge said flatly. “I believe there is one more witness?”   
Ivan continued to glower as he was directed back into the crowd, moving aside as his path crossed the final witness.  My heart sank; it was Prue.   
She caught my eye and scowled, and for once I did not care that I was scowling right back at her, refusing to look away as she turned to face the crowd and began to speak.   
“I serve in the bastion as King Bard’s housekeeper. I been there since the girl first came to live ‘ere in the winter.”   
“So you have spent a good deal of time with the accused?”   
“Aye, I ‘ave. She used to work with me, cleanin’ and tidyin’ mostly. Afore she worked in the stables.”   
“Have you ever noticed any suspicious behaviour by the accused?”   
“Plenty,” she nodded, casting another sideways scowl at me. “Once, I caught ‘er idlin’ and when I reminded ‘er of ‘er duties she threatened me.”   
I couldn’t help but scoff, earning myself another scowl from Prue, along with another snappy request to be silent from the judges. I glanced towards them but my eye was caught by Bard’s furious gaze, a wordless demand to control myself. My face flushing, I turned away, trying to find Kíli again; if I could only focus then maybe…  
“In what way did she threaten you?” The female judge asked Prue.   
“She told me to remember ‘ow many orcs she killed,” Prue replied to the gasps and murmurs of the crowd. I closed my eyes, trying and failing to stop my head from shaking.   
“And what’s more,” Prue continued. “I hear ‘er at night, in ‘er room – she spends a lot of time in there - mutterin’ spells and incantations in ‘er strange language -”   
“LIAR!” I screamed before I could stop myself. I spun to look into her wide, watery eyes, watching with grim satisfaction as she recoiled from me. “Liar, liar, liar!”   
“SILENCE!” the tall judge shouted. “Miss Cairi, you are the one on trial here!”   
“Oh please! This is ridiculous!” I shouted back, moving my gaze to Bard. “Bard, tell them!”   
“You will address your king as ‘Sire!’” the older judge weighed in.   
“Cairi,” Bard spoke for the first time, his voice gruff and forced. “Don’t make this any harder for yourself.”   
His words, and the grim look in his eye, felt like lashes on my skin. I blinked back tears of frustration as I turned back to my position, once again looking for my anchor in the sea of unfriendly faces. Kíli’s face was set in a hard frown, glaring at Bard, the judges, Prue or perhaps all of the them, I could not be sure. I barely heard them announce the final witness, only catching the red of his cloak out of the corner of my eye; the captain of the guard.   
“Tell us, captain,” the female judge addressed him in a voice that sounded almost bored with the whole proceedings. “When did you reach the scene of the crime?”   
“I was near dragged from my own bed by one of my men as soon as they discovered it,” he said. “I arrived to find them attempting to restrain her. Took near on half a dozen of them, if it weren’t for her shouting I would’ve thought it was a mountain cat.”   
I turned to glare at him, only to find him glaring right back.   
“Tell us what you discovered,” the tall judge commanded.   
“The body was lying by the gate to one of the stalls, the dagger was still in his neck.”   
I tried to ignore the images resurfacing in my mind, but the muffled gasps from the crowd did not help my efforts.   
“You all know the law,” the captain continued. “No weapons can be carried in the streets, save by guards on duty. And those weapons must be sheathed until they are needed.”   
“We are aware of the law,” he replied.   
“After they took her away I examined the weapon, and I have no doubt that this was a calculated attack.”   
My vehement response to this choked in my throat as the captain reached beneath his cloak and withdrew the dagger. I barely recognised it, having tried so hard to rid my mind of any memory of it, but the captain held it high for everyone to see. It was a short but wide blade with a rectangular handle made of a dark material that I did not recognise, but it seemed to my eyes almost like marble. The pattern was sharp and angular, glittering like silver even beneath the thickening clouds above us. The crowd began to utter a series of confused murmurs until the captain made his final declaration:   
“It is clearly of Dwarfish make. The design is unmistakable. No guard of mine possesses any such weapon, and there is no other in this city who would have access to them as this woman.”   
The outcry from the crowd was deafening and I couldn’t mask the terror I felt as I looked desperately back to the company. They looked as shocked as I, and for the first time none of them looked at me. They huddled close together, talking fast and gesturing to each other but I could not make out a word. I didn’t dare look at the crowd, but instead turned back to Bard. His face was grey but his expression remained determinedly stoic as he strode out onto the steps to address his people. He raised his hand for silence and they quietened but the whispering did not cease.   
“Thank you, captain,” he addressed him in a strong voice. “But we have heard one side of the case only. Before we reach a decision, we must hear from witnesses for the defence.”    
The incessant muttering from the crowd indicated that they disagreed completely, but nobody protested.   
“Who would like to go first?” he asked.   
It was then that the crowd went silent. The stillness of the city seemed like a crushing weight in my chest but I was determined not to drop my gaze. Instead I kept my eyes fixed on the walls above their heads, focusing on the crumbled sections that had not been repaired yet, following the line of stone rising and falling like a frozen ocean. The dragging silence almost had me wishing for them to yell and curse at me again, just to distract from the feeling that I was completely and utterly alone up there.   
“I will!”   
I visibly flinched with shock at the declaration behind me and turned to see Sigrid striding forward out of the door of the bastion and down the steps. She held her head high, ignoring her father’s stern grimace and came to stand beside me, giving me a reassuring nod. It’s effectiveness, unfortunately, was minimal as I caught sight of the horrified looks among the crowd, and then negligible as I glanced back towards the bastion and saw little Tilda peering around the door, appearing not frightened, as before, but furious.   
“I met Cairi in Laketown,” Sigrid addressed the crowd with all the dignity and self-assurance of any king I had ever seen. “She and four others of the Company of Dwarves saved my siblings and I from the dragon. She got us to safety on the lakeside and she would not leave my sister and I alone until we found our father. She refused to leave, even when her own companions were presumably dead inside the mountain. When I next saw her she was injured and frightened and we offered her a home with us. It was the least we could do.”   
She looked round at me, a small smile breaking through her stoic expression, and I attempted to return it before she turned back to address the crowd once more.   
“She is one of the bravest, strongest and kindest people I have ever known. She has been nothing but respectful and helpful to me and my family, but the one thing she has never been is fainthearted. If it is an offence to defend yourself against insult and slander then are we not all criminals? Would any of you accept the treatment she has been subjected to without argument?”   
This time the silence throughout the crowd was tantamount to soothing. I chanced a glance back to the dwarves to find them staring determinedly at Sigrid, their expressions and postures tensed as if preparing for an attack.   
“My lady,” the older judge addressed her finally. “Your defence of her character is acknowledged. Now do you have any evidence pertaining to the crime itself?”   
“Only that I know beyond any doubt that this could not have been murder,” Sigrid answered. “Cairi may be a highly skilled warrior but she is not a cold-blooded killer. This is clearly a case of self-defence.”   
“Even though the weapon used is not one of our own?”   
“Cairi is a daughter of Man, the same as any of us. Is there any evidence that she owned that weapon?”   
“She is a close companion of Dwarves,” the female judge cut in, her sharp gaze moving to the Company. “Tell me, my lady, has the accused ever spent time in the company of Dwarves since she has been here.”   
My eyes fell closed for a moment at her words, and I couldn’t help letting out a sigh. Sigrid paused for a moment before answering.   
“She has, several of them have come to the city to visit her.”   
“And has she ever left the city to visit them.”   
Sigrid glanced round at me, her eyes wide with an unsaid apology. I gave a brief nod before looking back to the crowd, almost feeling the tension of their built-up protests.   
“She has.” Sigrid’s voice was quieter but her words were still heard throughout the crowd and the noise that resounded throughout the square seemed to be filled with growls and hisses among the usual curses. In amongst them I heard Bard call Sigrid’s name, nodding for her to go back inside. Sigrid shook her head fiercely and looked back to me but I could only nod back.   
“I’m sorry,” she mouthed at me and went to stand beside her father. They muttered angrily to each other for a few moments, clearly over her refusal to leave and I looked back to the Company, unable to keep the fear from my expression at all now.   
“Will there be any more witnesses for the defence?” The fourth judge attempted to speak over the noise of the crowd and I squeezed my eyes shut. The fear twisting in my gut of how this was going to end then gave way to something much stronger; my complete and utter exasperation with this humiliating farce of a trial.   
 “I HAVE DONE NOTHING!” I screamed at the top of my lungs in a last, desperate plea for them to hear me. Finally, to my slightest relief, they fell silent. Many were staring at me with shock at my outburst, while others continued to glare at me as if I was the most despicable creature they had ever come across, but finally they were listening.   
“I was a traveller, yes!” I called to them all, projecting my voice around the room so no one could mishear. My eyes travelled around the square, making sure to capture the gaze of every person they passed, and before long I came to the dwarves, where they sat on the wooden cabinets at the side of the hall.   
“I was not born in a house with four walls and I did not sleep in a bed of feathers or straw every night but I that does not lessen the fact that I was _someone_! I was a daughter and a sister. I am a person! Not an animal, not a thing! And I know that does not matter to any of you because I did not come from the same place as you, you never saw me before last winter, before the worst had happened and your lives were turned upside down. But it was not. My. _Fault!”_   
An outbreak of whispering began to cut through the stream of my words and I could hear panic begin to seep into my voice.   
“I have done nothing but attempt to live among you, as one of your own, but you never wanted to accept me! I was just like you, homeless, injured and frightened, but you would not understand!” Panic soon began to give way to anger and I could feel my hands start to shake as I raised my arm to point at them all.   
“None of you! None of you would allow me to try! Instead you scorned, and you stared, and you gossiped and lied and then one of you snuck into the stable yard and tried to cut my throat!”   
The outcry at my words could not silence me and I raised my voice to a yell once again.   
“HE TRIED TO KILL ME! I WILL NOT APOLOGISE FOR KILLING HIM BECAUSE IF I HAD NOT I WOULD BE DEAD!”   
“GOOD!” Came a scream from the crowd and before I could respond they were all yelling back at me.   
_“Murderer!”  
“Witch!”   
“You should have died!”   
“We’ll kill you now!”_   
Out of the corner of my eye I could see the Dwarves elbowing their way towards me but at that moment I no longer cared.   
“ _Feuch air_!” I bellowed at them. “I’LL TAKE ALL OF YOU IF I HAVE TO!”   
“ENOUGH!” Bard appeared in front of me, facing the crowd, his arms outstretched in a definitive silencing gesture.   
The noise died down a little, but many were still shouting choice curses and threats at me. Their words, however, became little more than white noise in my ears at the sight of the Dwarves ascending the steps towards me. The guards drew their weapons and began to close in but the Company was faster. Kíli was the first to reach me, then Dwalin, Bofur, Ori and all the rest surrounded me in a living shield.   
“Stay behind me,” Kíli told me before turning to face Bard, who was watching the whole debacle with an almost nauseated expression. The guards halted several feet from the Company, who were unarmed but glaring furiously at them, throwing several Khûzdul curses out over the outcry of the crowds.   
“Sire!” The captain of the guard moved back into my line of vision, his own blade pointed towards Nori. “What are your orders?”   
“King Bard!” Fíli’s voice roared over the debacle, causing the visibly startled crowd to quieten. “Enough is enough. Let this end now!”   
The guards were frozen, looking back towards Bard who was glaring furiously at Fíli and the rest of the Dwarves. After several agonising moments he closed his eyes and heaved a great sigh.   
“Lower your weapons!” he ordered the guards. They did not move at first, only glancing at each other in confusion.   
“Sire,” the captain began but was cut off by Bard’s cutting voice.   
“Put them away, now!” His glare now moved to the captain who grudgingly obeyed, followed by the guards. “Clearly, the trial is over.”   
“Sire,” the older judge addressed him somewhat carefully. “May we adjourn to discuss the sentence.”   
“I do not believe a discussion is needed,” replied Bard before turning to the crowd. “It is clear that there is more to this case than we first thought.”   
Once again, the crowd broke out in murmurs, sharing looks of confusion and fear as well as anger. I did not take my eyes from Bard, dreading the words that I was sure were to follow.   
“This woman has confessed to killing a man in defence of her own life. Whether or not she had just cause has not yet been proven. Therefore, it is my decision that she should be banished from this city, never to return until this matter has been solved.”   
The crowd erupted in a strange mixture of cheers, hisses and shouts of indignation but still I did not tear my eyes from Bard. It felt as if he had plunged that infernal dagger into my chest and rooted me to the stone beneath my feet. I felt hands fasten strongly around my arms but I did not move, not until Bard finally turned to look at me. The fury in his eyes had gone completely, leaving behind an emptiness that could only be defeat. His entire body seemed to sag, as if he had been cut loose from tight bonds and for a moment I thought he was going to speak to me. Instead, he only held my gaze until I turned and pulled free of Dwalin’s grip.   
“It’s alright, lass,” he said.   
“It’s over now,” I heard Fíli say quietly.   
I ignored them, ploughing through the two in front – Bofur and Dori, I managed to recall – and descended the steps.   
The crowd awaiting me at the bottom seemed to thicken in my path and I let the insults wash over me as I pushed and shoved my way through, batting away hands that tried to grab me and dodging the various objects and foods flying towards my face. Something splattered on the back of my head but I ignored that too, determined not to stop, or to break. In amongst the jeers I could hear the Dwarves calling my name but I would not turn back. Finally I reached the edge of the crowd and strode away down the hill, only just managing to stop myself breaking into a sprint. The noise dimmed slightly but I knew that they would follow. They would want to make sure I was truly gone. It was only when I reached the corner that I broke into a run, charging down through the empty streets, taking shortcuts through the alleyways that I knew and not slowing until I had reached the last familiar place I knew in this forsaken city.   
Thankfully, there was nobody in the stable yards today. As soon as I appeared I could hear Angus begin to kick at his stall, neighing furiously at me as if to tell me off for keeping him waiting. Before I went to him, however, I stopped to take in the sight before me. Twelve ponies, beautifully groomed and wearing tack that was very grandly made, though it was definitely threadbare and old. I was not entirely sure it looked safe to ride in. I recognised Daisy, tethered near to the entrance, she greeted me with a low whinny as I went to her, nuzzling my outstretched hand as if to comfort me. All of the Company ponies seemed more alert as I passed them, turning to look at me or snorting in greeting and I badly wanted to just stay with them, groom them and feed them until the overwhelming humiliation of this day was gone. My reverie was cut short as the sounds of distant voices reached my ears, indistinct drones of angry but determined shouts. I found myself holding back a scream as I burst through the door of the tack shed, snatching up Angus’ halter and storming back towards his stall. He was tossing his head and snorting impatiently when I reached him and I threw open the door with a repressed growl, making him start slightly.   
“Get me out of here, lad,” I said to him in a low voice as I fasted his halter over his head. I led him out of the stable to the sight of the Dwarves hurriedly unfastening their tethers.   
“Best go lass,” Balin called over to me. “That crowd’s turning ugly.”   
I couldn’t hold back a snort of derision as I hoisted myself onto Angus’ back.   
“Were we just at the same trial?” I heard Bombur ask.   
“I’ve never seen such ugliness in mi’life,” Nori muttered.   
“That wasn’t a trial!” Dwalin growled. “That was a bloody sham!”   
“Cairi?”   
I snapped round to find Kíli edging Daisy slowly towards me. His eyes were wide with concern but I could not deal with that now. I could only kick Angus into a brisk trot past him and all the others, lead him around the corner to the gate – which was slowly being pulled open by the guards – give him his head and let him gallop out of the city.


	15. Return to Erebor

_ Kíli _

By the time he had followed her out of the gates she was already halfway to the foot of Ravenhill.   
“Wait!” he called after her but she did not even turn her head. He turned back to catch his brother’s eye and nodded for him to follow before urging Daisy into a gallop. She snorted angrily at him but he only gave her another sharp kick.   
_If you could make this the first time you catch that grey demon I would be much obliged,_ he thought as she thundered across the valley. Ahead of him, Angus had passed the path up to the watch tower and was instead following the base of the hill around towards the forest. It was then that Kíli thought she must be running away and gave Daisy another kick. By the time he had followed her around the hill, Daisy was panting furiously but now seemed as determined as he was to catch up. She was still far in front of him, but he could see that Angus was starting to slow. They sped down the small hillocks towards the river and Kíli watched them leap it with ease before heading straight for the forest. When it was his turn to brace himself for the jump, she had reached the forest edge, dismounted and disappeared into the trees. He pulled Daisy to a halt beside Angus, who stopped grazing to watch Kíli suspiciously as he dismounted and followed her into the forest.   
She had not gone far – he deduced this from the clear, angry shouts filling his ears – and it took him less than a minute to find her. She was standing in front of a large elm tree, beating her fists against it mercilessly and shouting, whether in pain or anger he could not quite decipher.   
" _Riataiche! Breugairean! Mallachdt orra!”_   
He wanted to stop her, grab hold of her bloody hands and keep her from hurting herself, but he stood his ground and waited. He knew she needed to let her rage escape before she could possibly listen to anyone. She finally stopped and lowered her hands – he could see her knuckles were scraped open – only to turn pick up a branch and break it in half, then again and again until she was left with twigs. Then she picked up rocks from the ground and threw them at the trees, crying out in fury with every swing of her arm until finally she seemed to cast of her last morsel of strength and collapsed to the ground. Her hair stuck out around her head from the wind, the blood from her knuckles began to stain the skirt of her dress where she gripped it and her head drooped in defeat as she sat on the forest floor, still damp from the rain. She had fallen silent, save her laboured breaths, and seemed to have eyes only for the dampened grass and the scraps of broken branch around her feet. She seemed, to Kíli’s eyes, utterly broken. He thought that his instinct should have been to envelop her in his arms and promise to protect her from everything that had hurt her, but now he could only step towards her and tentatively call her name.   
“Cairi?”   
For the first time she turned to look at him and the darkness in her eyes unnerved him, made his heart clench in his chest but he swallowed hard and took another step towards her.    
“Will you come back now?”   
For a while she only stared at him, her face set firmly in that grim expression that seemed to make his body freeze in place. Her eyes flitted from side to side and the rustling behind him let him know that the others had caught up. When she finally did speak her voice was hoarse from shouting.   
“You want a witch and a murderer to enter your kingdom, wander your halls and sleep under your roof?”   
A loud growl over Kíli’s right shoulder preceded Dwalin’s appearance beside him.   
“Don’ talk such nonsense lass!”   
“We know yer neither a witch nor a murderer.” Glóin added.   
“Thorin would never have allowed such a spectacle as that!” said Bofur, furiously. “Bloody, red-faced, sons of -!”  
“We told you before, lassie,” Balin raised his voice over the others’ but his tone was still kind. “You’d be more than welcome in Erebor.”   
The others nodded, muttering their agreement, but Kíli was still anchored in his place. Not once had he taken his eyes from her face, watching her expression start to soften, even as her eyes remained narrowed.   
“Will the others feel the same as you?”   
“Probably not,” Fíli replied. “The Dwarves of the Iron Hills do not know you as we do, but they know you are a member of Thorin’s Company. They will respect you for that, at least.”   
“Aye lass,” Dori followed. “We have a certain status under Thorin’s rule, and none would dare challenge his orders.”   
The image of Fáin entered Kíli’s mind for a moment, but he pushed the thought away with a frown. He caught his brother’s eye in a sideways glance that told him Fíli had shared the same thought.   
She did not reply to them at first, only looking back to the ground as her forehead creased in a deep, exhausted frown. She began to pull at the grass beneath her in frustration and Kíli watched in suspense, willing her to answer. Then, on his left-hand side, Bifur took a few steps towards her and for the first time his gaze was drawn from her to his comrade. His green eyes were wide and his hands clenched in front of him as he approached her. Her head snapped up at his approach but her expression softened as he stopped several feet from her.   
“Come with us,” he said softly. Kíli could see the muscles in his neck and arms twitching. She seemed to relax, her posture diminishing slightly as if in sadness but she did not break Bifur’s gaze. Her lips parted slightly, giving away the thoughts in her head in a way that only Kíli could have seen. For a few moments, as she stared at Bifur, he thought he saw the light of recognition in her eyes, and something that could have been happiness, and pleasant surprise that her old comrade could speak again. He could not be sure, the evil voice in the back of his mind reminding him that this could be his own hopes betraying him. Finally, she nodded at Bifur.   
“All right,” she sighed and slowly got to her feet. “It’s not as if there’s anywhere else for me to go.”  

_ Thorin _

He could not remember a day lasting so long. He had rushed through his meetings and completed only the tasks that required finishing and since then he had been waiting. Any time he attempted to busy himself he would be distracted by the slightest noise outside his door. He kept thinking he should find Balin – who had always been able to calm his nerves – only to remember that he was in Dale. Whenever he tried to focus he would see the face of poor Sigrid, drenched and distressed, or Kíli’s fury, or his oldest friend’s look of betrayal. He told himself that Dwalin would forgive him, that he would understand why he did not tell him straight away of his adopted daughter’s plight; what he could not think of was when that would happen.   
Noon came and went but he could not eat. The anxiety was drilling away at his stomach until finally he could no longer bear to sit any longer. He locked his study behind him and made his way down through the corridors to the main stairs. Several guards passed him and bowed but he could only spare them a nod. As he reached the lower halls on the way to the main gate he caught sight of a dreadfully familiar face.   
“My king,” Fáin waylaid him, moving into his path and bowing low. “If I may beg a moment?”   
“I am afraid it must only be a moment,” Thorin grunted.   
“Of course, of course. I merely wished to ask about the visit from the Princess of Dale early this morning. I did not get a chance to ask at today’s council meeting.”   
“What did you want to ask exactly?”   
“Only if there was any business I could attend to? I am a senior council member after all and privy to much of the business between Erebor and Dale -”   
“I am afraid not,” Thorin cut him off. “The princess’ visit was not a business meeting. Now I must -”   
His excuse was interrupted by the bray of the gate horn and he left Fáin mid-word to hurry down into the hall. As he came into the entrance hall the newly repaired gate was slowly hauled open to reveal his Company and, in amongst them, Vana. He could not help but smile widely at the sight of her unharmed, though it was quelled almost immediately as he took in her exhausted expression. He came towards them and greeted his eldest nephew as he stepped forward, clasping his arm.   
“Were there any problems?”   
“Of a sort,” Fíli answered softly, a slight tilt of his brow indicating that he would fill in the details later. Thorin nodded and turned to look more closely at Vana.   
“What happened?” he asked, staring in horror at her bleeding knuckles. She did not answer, but looked instead to Kíli as if unsure if she was allowed to speak.   
“That’s nothing,” Bofur chipped in. “You should see the tree.”   
Vana seemed to relax a little at this and crouched into a clumsy sort of curtsey.   
“I hope I’m not intruding, my king,” she murmured. “The others told me I could -”   
“Vana, you are more than welcome here,” he began until Kíli caught his eye, his expression growing fierce. He realised his mistake and cleared his throat in embarrassment.   
“I am happy to see you safe here. Please feel free to treat the Mountain as your home as much as you did Dale. I have had a room prepared for you in Balin and Dwalin’s quarters.”   
She glanced towards Dwalin before her eyes travelled upwards, taking in the surroundings of the entrance hall.   
“First, we should get those injuries tended to,” said Oín. “The healing houses are over this way.” He indicated towards the east stairs but she seemed to be barely listening, her eyes widening to saucers as they continued to explore the cavern.   
“I’ve been here before,” she stated, so that Thorin could not tell if she was speaking to any of them.   
“Yes,” Kíli said softly. “Do you remember?”   
Even in his tired face, Thorin could detect the glint of hope in his nephew’s eyes before his gaze moved back to her. The entire Company seemed to be sharing the same thoughts.   
“I’m not sure,” her forehead creased slightly in concentration. “I remember ruins.”   
“Aye, so they were when you were last here,” said Thorin.   
She turned to look at him and Thorin could see the drain of her pale skin, the shadows beneath her eyes and the exhaustion within them. He gave a veiled sigh before moving aside and holding his arm towards the stairs, as Óin had.   
“Come, we can should get you cleaned up and settled. You’ve had a long day.”   
She did not answer, only stared past the place he had been standing. He turned to follow her gaze and found Fáin staring right back at her, his face completely indiscernible. For the briefest moment no one moved, until Fáin sank into a low bow.   
“Greetings, my lady,” he said cordially. “Welcome to Erebor. It has been some time since last we met.”   
Thorin looked back to Vana to find her expression almost as stoic as Fáin’s, save the slight parting of her lips, as if she was trying to find the right words to say. Before she could make any response, Kíli moved in front of her, making no effort to disguise his thoughts towards the dwarf-lord.   
“Lady Cairi has had a long journey. She needs rest, not conversation.”   
“Lady?” she frowned at Kíli. “I’m not -”   
“All of us have been elevated to the rank of Lord,” Dori interrupted her softly.   
“And seeing as you lack one thing in particular that would make you a Lord,” Nori added with a smirk, earning him a smack on the shoulder from Glóin.   
“In this kingdom you are a Lady,” Thorin told her, drawing her confused gaze to his. “You are a part of the Company that won back this Mountain, and for that you have earned the respect of my people.”   
What little colour was left in her face seemed to drain from it as her mouth opened in shock.   
“But…” she whispered, only to have any thoughts die on her lips.   
“You’re exhausted,” Kíli said, turning to face her. “We can talk about all this later, first you need to rest. May I take you to the healing houses?”   
“No,” she shook her head. “I just want to sleep.”   
“I can bring what I need to her quarters,” Óin added and Kíli nodded.   
“All right, we’ll meet you there.”   
“I’ll come with you,” said Balin.   
“Aye,” Dwalin nodded but Thorin raised a hand to halt him.   
“Actually Dwalin, I would speak with you a moment.”   
Dwalin’s dark eyes met his and seemed to bristle, but he dutifully nodded.   
“As you command,” he said gruffly.   
“Nori, Fíli,” Thorin addressed them, ignoring his friend’s tone for the moment. “You as well, will you meet me in my study?”   
They nodded and strode past him as the others went their separate ways. Thorin watched Balin lead her gently towards the main stair that would take them up to their quarters while Kíli followed closely behind. As they passed Fáin, Kíli made sure to put himself between them, his dark eyes never leaving the other’s until she was several feet away.   
“Will you accompany me to my study?” Thorin addressed his friend and Dwalin grunted in response. “Fáin, do you have somewhere to be?”   
“Aye, I do, my king,” the dwarf-lord replied, sinking once again into a low bow. “Please do not hesitate to summon me if you have need.”   
Thorin did not bother to reply, waiting until he and Dwalin were a good way up the stairs before addressing him.   
“Was it as bad as we thought it would be?”   
“Worse,” Dwalin replied gruffly. “They wanted her blood. It was lucky we were there.”   
“Did King Bard not -?”   
“He did nothing! He watched and he sulked and not much else.”   
Thorin gave a frustrated sigh. “The fool.”   
“Aye,” Dwalin nodded. “He’s a fool all right. Thinkin’ she would stand there quietly while those miserable bastards cursed and spat and humiliated her.”   
“Why did he not allow her to leave quietly?”   
“He thought his people would let her defend herself, that she could convince them of her innocence. I don’t think he believed how much they despised her until he saw it for himself.”   
He sighed again. “I can understand wanting to think the best of your people.”   
“Can yeh?” Dwalin growled, causing Thorin to stop. Dwalin walked a pace or two ahead before turning back to face him, his expression dark.   
“What do you mean by that?”   
“Am I speakin’ to my friend or my king?”   
“Your friend, as always.” Thorin fixed his own blue eyes with Dwalin’s dark green.   
For a few moments, Dwalin only stared seething back him.   
“My daughter was in danger,” he growled. “Attacked in the streets, locked in a cell, awaitin’ trial for her life and yeh didn’t tell me. Yeh waited a whole day before yeh thought I had a right to know.”   
“I did,” Thorin nodded. “I waited to tell you and I waited to tell Kíli.”   
“Why?”   
“I did not want the two of you tearing off to the city and drawing attention to yourselves.”   
“‘Drawin’ attention…’” Dwalin echoed with a scoff.   
“I did not want to put Vana in any more danger than she already was. Having you and Kíli storm into the city would not have helped her. I also wanted to prevent any word of this reaching undesirable ears.”   
“Whose ears would they be then?”   
Thorin did not answer, only fixing his friend with a look that told him he already knew the answer.   
“We’ll continue this in my study,” he said, marching past Dwalin and indicating for him to follow. “For what it’s worth, I am sorry I did not tell you immediately.”   
“As my king, there is nothin’ to forgive,” Dwalin replied.   
“And as your friend?”   
“I’d rather not say,” he lowered his voice. “Wouldn’t want any undesirable ears to hear.”

_ Vana/Cairi _

I hissed in pain as Óin wrapped the warm, soaked cloth around my fingers.   
“ _Gradh!”_ I cursed as quietly as I could manage.   
“Crabs?” he frowned and held his ear horn up. “What’re ye talkin’ about lass?”   
“Nothing,” I shook my head, trying to hide a smile. “You do that a lot?”   
“Do what?”   
“Aye, he does,” Kíli nodded from his seat on the other side of Balin’s stone dining table. “You get used to it.”   
“You keep that on now lass,” Óin pointed at my hands. “Those herbs’ll keep that inflammation down. Ten minutes or so should do the trick.”   
“Ten minutes?” I grimaced. “It stings!”   
“You just tried to beat a tree to death, are ye tellin’ me ye cannae handle a few herbs.”   
I sighed and nodded at him.   
“Thank you.”   
“Yer quite welcome,” he gave a small bow and sat down opposite me. “You sure there’s nothin’ else ye want me to take a look at.”   
“No,” I shook my head. “They didn’t hurt me.”   
“What about the attack?”   
I stiffened. _Don’t ask me about that.  
_ “What about it?”   
“When that man…he didn’t hurt you, did he?”   
I was very aware of Kíli sitting opposite me.   
“No.”   
The three of us sat in silence for a few moments but I kept my eyes fixed on my hands. I could feel Kíli’s eyes on me and I wanted nothing more than to just sink into the floor and out of sight; I was still in this ridiculous dress, with the blood stains on the skirt and the mud all around the hem. I had not slept properly for nearly three days and I knew I looked like it. I glanced around the room.   
Balin and Dwalin’s quarters were high up in the mountain, just beneath the royal quarters so I’d been told. Their small dining room was almost filled entirely with the square, stone table, surrounded by eight stone seats. The walls were decorated with cloth banners that had once been very fine, but had aged considerably. Deep greens and dark blues surrounded us, interrupted with small, enclosed lanterns, each filled with the light from a small yellow flame. There was no fireplace but I could feel soft heat emanating from the walls and the floor. The door – also stone – creaked open to reveal Dwalin holding a pile of clothes.   
“These were the best my brother could find on short notice lass,” he said apologetically and set them in front of me. “He sent them to be washed last night. They used to be our mother’s.”   
As carefully as I could, so as not to soak them in Óin’s concoction, I picked up the huge, dark yellow shirt sitting on top of the soft, brown trousers. It looked almost twice my size but the material was soft and clean – if clearly very old.   
“First thing tomorrow we’ll send for yer clothes,” Dwalin added. “I can have that dress cleaned for yeh too.”   
“No,” I looked up at him, doing my best to smile in thanks. “These are fine, thank you.”   
He managed a gruff smile back, the rough skin crinkling at the edges of his eyes, and moved to sit at the end of the table opposite Glóin.   
“Do you need anythin’ else?”    
I began to shake my head when I caught sight of Kíli suddenly shaking his head in exasperation.   
“I’m so sorry,” he said quickly. “You have not eaten properly in days! We should send for some food.”   
“No, no,” I protested instinctively. “Honestly, I’m fine. I just want to sleep.”   
“Nonsense, lass,” Óin objected briskly. “I’ll just nip down to the kitchens. I’m sure Bombur will have something put by.”   
“No, please -!” I began but at that moment my stomach betrayed me with an awful, long growl that brought a smirk to all of their faces.   
“As they say,” Óin smiled as he went to leave the room. “A lady’s stomach never lies!”   
I waited until the door was closed behind him before turning to Dwalin.   
“Who says that?”   
“Nobody,” he answered with a shrug. “He doesn’t hear so well.”   
I chuckled lightly but the feeling of weight growing in my chest was drowning out any lighter emotions that attempted to abate it.   
“I really don’t want to be any trouble,” I said softly.   
“Yer no trouble to us, lass,” said Dwalin, his voice so uncharacteristically soft that I turned to look at him. His green eyes were wide and kind in that hardened face and he made sure to smile as I faced him.   
“Aye,” Kíli added, pulling my gaze round to his. “We all want you here.”   
Then, finally, the weight began to lift, and until it did I had not even noticed how much I needed to breathe. A deep well of air entered my lungs and as I exhaled the weight dissipated slightly, leaving behind a hidden sense of utter relief. For the first time in days I felt truly safe. I smiled at Kíli and after a moment he smiled back. I thought I saw some colour rising in his cheeks but the sound of the stone door sliding smoothly across the floor distracted me and I turned to see Balin entering the room.   
“Well, that’s your room all ready, lass,” he told me with a warm grin “I’ve lit the fire and your bed has fresh linens and blankets.”   
“Thank you so much,” I returned his smile with all the enthusiasm that thoughts of a warm, fresh bed could offer.   
“You’re very welcome,” he nodded, closing the door and taking what been Óin’s seat. “Now, is there anything else you’d like to ask?”   
I thought about it for a moment.   
“Yes, actually,” I began slowly, adjusting my seat as much as I could without using my hands. The stinging sensation from the bandages was starting to disappear. “Do the other dwarves know? About the trial?”   
“Not yet,” Balin shook his head. “But I can’t promise they won’t find out.”   
Though I had been expecting it, the thought still made my throat go dry.   
“But,” Balin continued. “The laws of Dale do not apply here. We do not consider killing in self-defence a crime worthy of such vicious punishment. Legally speaking, you are no more a criminal here than any of us.”   
I nodded but my mind was now racing.   
“The dagger,” I said, after a few moments. “It was Dwarfish.” I looked up to Balin to find any trace of smile gone from his face. Still, his face remained straight as he nodded.   
“Aye.”   
I swallowed hard and looked around, first to Kíli and then to Dwalin. Both bore rapidly darkening expressions.   
“There’s only one way that man could’ve gotten hold of one,” I stated.   
Once again, Balin nodded.   
“So,” I continued, trying to keep my voice level. “The legality of my position here, the fact that I’m somehow a Dwarfish Lady and my supposed status as a Member of Thorin’s Company does not alter the fact that somebody in this Mountain wants me gone.”   
A heavy silence fell throughout the room, broken only by Dwalin’s rough intake of breath as his face turned as red as his thoughts. They may as well have screamed their answer in my ear.   
_Well,_ I found myself thinking. _It was nice while it lasted._   
“It won’t be like last time,” Kíli’s voice rose through the tepid air of the room and I looked up to find his dark eyes, slightly narrowed with determination and looking directly into mine. “We will protect you.” He promised me, and I believed him.

_ Fíli _

He was deep in discussion with Nori before Thorin’s rapid entry into his study cut him off mid-sentence.   
“Did Dwalin tell you about the trial?” he asked his uncle.   
“Only the gist,” Thorin replied, sliding the lock across the door. “Did you find out anything else?”   
“Not much we didn’t already know,” said Nori, crossing his arms across his chest. “The man was a farmer, down on his luck like many of them. He attacked her, she killed him, they all think he’s innocent as a newborn babe.”   
“There is something you need to know though,” Fíli continued. “Our suspicions have been all but confirmed.”   
Thorin frowned at him.  “What do you mean?”  
“The captain of the guard showed us the dagger,” Nori replied. “It’s dwarfish.”   
Thorin’s eyes widened, his face hardening as he looked directly at Fíli.   
“You suspect Fáin?”   
Fíli nodded. “Bard does not allow weapons in Dale, and Cairi has had ample opportunity to receive or steal a dwarfish dagger. I’m sure Fáin would have been only too happy to have the Men of Dale spill her blood so he didn’t have to.” He resisted the urge to spit.   
“Fáin would never be stupid enough to orchestrate this himself,” Thorin replied darkly, wandering slowly towards his desk. “He’ll have somebody else doing his dirty work. Who else arrived with him?” He turned towards Nori.   
“Tanē, Runo, Manû, Yarin, Forst and Erdí accompanied his convoy.”   
“Keep an eye on them,” Thorin ordered. “You may need to enlist some help. I’ll leave that to your discretion. But I want you specifically to watch Yarin. I remember him from Ered Luin.”   
“Aye,” Nori nodded. “I’ll be his second shadow.”   
“And I?” Fíli asked Thorin, who turned to him with a softer expression.   
“I want you to keep an eye on Fáin. He must not suspect he’s being watched, but you and I should work with him whenever he offers.”   
“Understood,” Fíli nodded. “And Cairi?”   
“Dwalin and Kíli will keep her safe,” Thorin said, his expression fading slightly, giving away a sad glint in his eye. “I do not want a repeat of that night.”   
Red hot anger flared in Fíli’s chest at the memory but he suppressed it in a panicked breath he disguised as a cough.   
“There won’t be one,” he said determinedly. “We’ll get to the bottom of this.” 


	16. However long the night...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cairi's first few days in Erebor mean a lot of readjusting for a lot of people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! Thanks for being so patient. :)

_ Kíli _

He jolted awake with a sharp breath, his eyes snapping open to the dim grey of his bedchamber. He groaned aloud; this was the third time that night. The long winter months had been spent seeking out enough work to make him sleep dreamlessly. Now the mere idea of falling asleep seemed repellent to his body, no matter how much he was convinced of wanting it. He sat up, pulling the blankets off him, and scrubbed a hand through his hair, flinching as his fingers caught in the tangles. He could almost see his mother’s exasperated expression.   
_When was the last time you combed that crow’s nest?  
Are you a prince or an urchin? Never mind, I wouldn’t want to offend the urchins.   
_ He pulled the knot apart with a small smile.   
A thin stream of grey light filtered through the gap in the thick curtains and he gave up any hope of sleep. It was dawn and if he could get started on some of the work in the upper guard rooms then perhaps he could drop by Dwalin and Balin’s for breakfast. The very thought sent his mind whirring. Would she want to see him? Would she remember anything new? What would he do if she didn’t? What would he do if she did?   
He pulled the curtains apart and stared out into the paling sky. The sun was not even up yet. A movement to his right caught his eye and he glanced out of instinct, expecting to see a shadow. He was not expecting to see a pale, bare foot pulling up out of his sight into the side of the mountain. He let out a yelp that left him feeling more embarrassed than startled before turning and grabbing his shirt and boots. He pulled them on and lifted the latch on the window, pushing it open to the outside world. The day did not have the summer’s warmth yet but the air was as still as the mountain itself. He took a deep, cool breath before clambering gracelessly out of the window, resting his feet on the ridges in the rock. Once he had a secure hold on the frame above his head he looked up. She was looking right back at him, her face framed by her copper hair which seemed almost red against the yellow of her shirt. She was perched on the rocks like a mountain cat climbing to its den, her arms stretched above her and her feet clinging perilously to the rocks, at once natural and completely out of place.   
“What do you think you’re doing?” He found himself asking her in a voice that sounded more like his mother’s.   
She glanced around incredulously before answering him. “Climbing.”   
“Yes, I figured that out for myself, thank you,” he huffed. “Please come down before you kill yourself.”   
She only scoffed and continued to climb, leaving him watching helplessly below. He swore under his breath and began to climb after her. He was slower than she was, taking several attempts to find footholds for his thick boots. By the time he had climbed ten feet she had reached a ledge more than twice that distance above.   
“What are you doing?” Her voice echoed down to him and he tilted his head up to find her perched on the ledge and watching him.   
“What do you think?” he called up.   
“You’ll fall!”   
“Is that so?” he smirked and continued to climb. “I take it you don’t remember the incident on the mountain?”   
“That’s not funny.” She glowered down at him. Guilt welled up in his chest and pulled the smirk from his lips.    
“Sorry,” he grunted as he kicked at the rock in search of another foothold. “But my point is -” he hauled himself up the rock face. “- I am just as capable of climbing -” he secured his hold on the rock and looked up at her. “- as you are.”   
Her expression did not soften but she said nothing else as he caught up to her and graciously shuffled to the side to give him room to climb onto the ledge next to her. She had pulled her knees up to her chest and folded her arms on top. He settled on the edge with his legs outstretched and followed her gaze to the edge of the sun as it started to peer over the edge of the horizon, the city of Dale standing a silent shadow on the outcrop of the plains below; it seemed to stare blankly back at them.   
“What are you thinking?” he asked quietly. She did not answer for many long moments and he began to think she had not heard him.   
“Nothing,” she finally said; her voice was hoarse and she cleared her throat afterwards but said no more. He continued to watch as the sun rose slowly, trying to think of more to say.   
“Trouble sleeping?” he eventually asked, feeling useless as he did so.   
“I couldn’t sleep a wink,” she answered and he turned to see she was looking at him. The skin beneath her eyes was dark against her pale skin. “I wanted to go for a walk, but I went to open the front door and…” she trailed off and her gaze snapped back to the land below.   
He felt a twinge of sadness at her expression, one that he recognised well; she was scared.   
“You couldn’t?”   
He could see her jaw clench as she shook her head once.   
“It’s alright, you know,” he said gently. “It’s understandable that you would be worried.”   
She let out a derisive snort that surprised him.   
“I thought I was supposed to be this brave warrior who kills orcs and hunts and survives mortal wounds.”   
“You are,’” he corrected her more sharply than he intended, his tone causing her to look back to him. “And warriors are allowed to be scared.”   
For a moment she seemed poised to argue, but instead she only exhaled loudly and rested her head on her arms. They sat in silence for a while as he struggled to find something else to say.   
“How did you get out here?” he finally asked. “There aren’t nearly as many windows here as there were in Ered Luin.”   
“I found an opening in the wall between Balin’s chambers and the parlour. It led out onto one of the higher corridors. There was a door from there that opened out into the mountainside.”   
He nodded, her words bringing his mind back to a certain conversation with Nori about secret passages. He couldn’t disguise the smile it brought to his face.   
“What?”   
He glanced round to find her looking curiously at him.   
“Oh, nothing,” he shook his head. “Would you like to stay up here for a while?”   
“Yes.” She looked back out to the horizon. He took a deep breath before asking the next question.   
“Would you like me to stay too?”   
She let a few moments pass before she nodded slowly.

Slowly but surely the sun climbed higher and higher into the sky, until the entire mountainside was bathed in the pale, golden dawn.   
His gaze flitted between the land beneath them and her slim form. She never stopped staring into the horizon. Finally, when the city of Dale began to visibly stir, he heard a murmur next to him.   
“What was that?” he asked softly.   
“Will it ever end?” she repeated more loudly. “This uncertainty?”   
“Of course it will,” he answered automatically. “You just need to give it more time.”   
“I’ve given it time,” she groaned. “Apparently even after ten years I didn’t remember anything before.”   
He didn’t have an answer for that.    
“What if I never remember it all?”   
There it was. The question he had forbidden himself from asking. The blood began to boil in his veins and he clenched his fists to relieve some of the tension.   
“You’ll find a way to move on,” he said, trying to disguise the sudden hoarseness of his voice with a cough. “Something else to occupy your thoughts, and then, one day, you’ll find that it’s become easier. You’ll find yourself thinking other things, at least until you realise you’re not thinking about it. Then it tends to come back, but each time it gets slightly less…painful…” he trailed off as he realised she was watching him intently. He swallowed hard, silently cursing his loose tongue but did not break her gaze.   
“I don’t suppose I could find work at the stables here?” she finally asked and he breathed a small sigh of relief.   
“I don’t see why not,” he answered. “None of the Iron Hills Dwarves have much experience with ponies.”   
“Thank you,” she smiled and he felt a small rush of warmth in his chest. “Now I just need to find a way to get myself out of the front door.”   
“Why don’t I come with you?” he offered. “We can get some breakfast in the kitchen first?”   
“Are you sure?” she asked him sheepishly.   
“Yes,” he nodded pointedly, looking at her seriously. “I told you we would protect you and I meant it.”   
“I know,” she said quietly. “And it does comfort me. It’s just that you can’t be with me every hour of the day.”   
“Perhaps, but there are thirteen of us,” he replied, a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “And you have the respect of the Company. Do not forget that.”   
“Even though I don’t remember why?”   
He paused for a moment before answering.   
“You might not,” he spoke so softly he was almost whispering. “But I do. We all do.”

_ Vana/Cairi _

To say that Erebor was different to Dale may be the biggest understatement ever made by Man, Elf or Dwarf. Wherever I went in the Mountain I was greeted by small bows and acknowledgements of ‘me lady,’ neither of which I expected to grow used to. If I thought the Mountain was huge from the outside, it was gargantuan from within. Its corridors, stairwells and walkways numbered in the thousands, leading deep into the mountain and extending from the raven’s nest at the very top down into such depths I could not possibly comprehend by sight alone. The stone itself seemed to change colour as I passed, seeming in some places to be the deepest blue – almost black until I looked once more down past the walkway beneath my feet – while in others it appeared almost green.   
The morning after the trial, after Kíli had convinced me to climb down from the ledge, we had returned to Dwalin and Balin’s quarters only to be greeted by the sight of Bombur blundering around the kitchen, serving up four huge plates of sausages, bacon, tomatoes and mushrooms, along with a full loaf of freshly baked bread. At the sight of Kíli he wasted no time in setting out a fifth place and dividing the portions accordingly.   
“Had to break a couple of rationin’ rules but hey-ho,” he shrugged and met my grateful smile with a wide, warm grin.   
As we sat down to eat, the front door opened to reveal Dwalin carrying a small pack of materials and an expression stonier than the walls around us.   
“These came first thing lass,” he said softly. “From one of the bowman.”   
I recognised the material of Bard’s large, brown cardigan, wrapped carefully in twine, and untied it to find three of my shirts and both pairs of trousers, along with a couple of undergarment sets tucked inconspicuously among the items.   
“Who brought this?”   
“Older fellow,” Dwalin grunted. “Grey hair, beard. He wanted to see yeh himself but I told him yeh were asleep.”   
_Percy_ , I thought to myself and though I did not say it, I wished Dwalin had let him come up.   
“It’ll be nice to wear your own clothes again,” Kíli offered kindly and I did my best to return his smile.   
“The bowman told me the rest of yer things would be sent along in the next few days,” Dwalin added. “Perhaps it’ll be easier to…”   
I glanced up at his sheepish expression.   
“To go back to normal?”   
He seemed to flinch slightly and looked to his brother.   
“To make it easier for you to adjust to life here,” Balin offered.    
I only nodded in response.

Once again, I found myself unoccupied and wandering uselessly through the halls, save the couple of hours I could justify spending with Angus. The Company all had tasks and occupations to be getting on with, and I found myself missing the exhausting days in the Dale stables, and out in the fields. Beyond that, I found myself missing the simple presence of the sun.   
Anywhere I went I was accompanied, usually by a member of the Company. I did not mind, in fact I was grateful. I was all too aware that somebody in the Mountain wanted me dead.   
In some ways my days were undeniably similar to Dale.   
The aura of ‘outsider’ still surrounded me wherever I went, though admittedly the Dwarves of the Iron Hills rarely said anything – and if they did it was almost always in Khûzdul – but there were still the looks.   
As well as this, everywhere I went I was surrounded by memories that would bubble away at the surface, refusing to reveal themselves completely. Recollections of words and lights would echo in my mind with no context or meaning. The frustration it wrought, coupled with the knowledge that I was being watched – by both those who meant me no harm and those who did – worked successfully to limit any gratitude I should have felt towards the Company, and especially to Kíli and Dwalin. The guilt I felt over this haunted me every night, amongst other things.   
My sleep was plagued with the most confusing of dreams: the memories of the attack, the feeling of hard hands pinning my arms and legs, blood, stone and snow; snippets of memories from Ered Luin, and of the quest; tactile sensations of soft, white sheets, thick hair, strong hands, warm skin and satin lips. Often, I would wake up breathless and flushed, as if I had been running. The confusion I felt at this only added to my frustrations.

In the days since the trial I had taken to accompanying Balin to the library - where he spent the majority of his time that was not spent in the company of Thorin and the council – and consequently with Ori, whom I recognised instantly yet indistinctly, as if he were an old friend I had not seen in many years – despite the fact I knew that the last time I had seen him was before the battle.   
There were many tomes, scrolls and books in Erebor’s grand library and I found a surprising collection of works written in Westron. Most of them were concerned with the history of Middle Earth and of the Dwarven race, especially from the perspective of Erebor. I pursued with only a vague interest at first, mainly to occupy myself until it was time to leave again. It soon struck me, however, that learning more about the Mountain may unlock some of the memories I knew existed in my mind concerning my time here previously. Maps were one of my favoured sources; I would follow the route I could remember from the quest, trying to decipher the images, sounds, smells and senses that constantly plagued my thoughts. Among a set of scrolls I found a large map of Erebor, tightly rolled up into a narrow cylinder. It seemed to be a schematic of some sort, detailing the walkways, stairwells, elevator systems and passages of the mountain. It was clearly a work in progress – some of the passages were unfinished – but what it did contain was meticulous.   
“Balin?” I glanced behind me to where I knew he was rearranging one of the stone shelves. He looked up from the pile of books in his arms with a questioning expression.   
“May I borrow this?” I held up the map.   
“What is it?” he asked, placing the books on a nearby table and walking back towards me.   
“It’s a map of the Mountain.”   
“Let me see?” Ori, who was sitting across the table from me, reached over and I placed the map in his hands. After a moment of perusing his eyes lit up as they usually did at a new discovery. “It’s a plan of the works in the Mountain, updated around third-age 2765 by King Thrór.”   
“I remember, he wanted to extend the gold mines” Balin nodded sadly and reached for the map. He studied it for a few moments before turning back to me with a small smile.   
“I don’t see why not, it’ll certainly be more useful to you than it is to us.”   
“Thank you,” I took it back and placed it in the pocket of my coat.

*

“Ach! Angus!” I growled and snatched my hand away from his thick teeth. “I just fed you!”   
He snorted and tossed his head indignantly. I huffed impatiently and gently shoved his head back so I could lock the gate to his stall.   
“Time for my lunch anyway.” I heaved a nearby stone stool against the stall and sat back against the rock. The harsh black rock had been smoothed by years of dwarfish attention and was cool against my back. I chewed on my apple absent-mindedly and reached into my pocket, for the map I had picked up that morning. As I closed my hand around it my fingers brushed comfortingly up against the runestone. For a moment I let them rest there, the stone acting as a small anchor and found that I could breathe just that bit easier.   
“Found them!”   
I jumped slightly at the sound of my chaperone’s voice as he came limping through the stone arch from the mountain brandishing the metal hoof-picks.   
“Thank you, Nori,” I smiled as he handed them to me and examined them under the light from the open door. “These’ll do nicely. The ones in Dale were rusted half to nothing.”   
“Benefit of living underground,” Nori chuckled and took a seat next to me, wincing slightly as he adjusted his leg.   
“Is it painful?” I asked.   
“Occasionally,” he shrugged. “Óin’s promised me I’ll be walking properly by Durin’s Day if I follow all these exercises.”   
“And are you?” I raised an eyebrow at his subsequent smirk.  
“Who has time for all that these days?”   
I chuckled and shook my head, finishing my apple and reaching over to throw the core into Angus’ stall.   
“It’s good to hear that,” said Nori.   
“Hear what?” I turned to find him smiling warmly at me.   
“You laughing, it’s been a while since I’ve seen that.”   
“When was the last time?” I asked. He considered for a few moments before answering.   
“Probably Lake-town?”   
I nodded slowly and sat back, trying to relax my mind first and then search.   
“Why were we there again?” My question made the smile fade from Nori’s roguish face and I felt a pang of guilt.   
“We’d escaped from the Wood-elves down the river. Bard hid us in barrels and then his house.”   
“I remember that, I think,” I frowned. “I don’t remember how we got to Lake-town -”   
“Probably for the best,” Nori muttered.   
“What do you mean?”   
“Nothing, not important. What else do you remember?”   
“I remember the children laughing and Bilbo talking about the Shire. He has these cousins, or second-cousins, or…something, and they keep stealing his things.”   
“Aye, he knows how to bang on, that one.” Nori chuckled fondly and sat back against the stone, mirroring me.   
“When did Bilbo leave?” I turned to face him.   
“In the spring, just after the feast.”   
I nodded slowly, feeling the heaviness of regret settling in my chest.   
“I suppose he had to leave eventually,” I said softly. “I just wish I could’ve said goodbye.”   
“He didn’t want to upset your recovery,” Nori said quickly.   
“I understand that,” I assured him. “I don’t blame him, I was horrid to him after I woke up. I was awful to all of you.”   
“And you know none of us hold that against you,” he said bluntly. “You do, don’t you?”   
“I know, but that doesn’t mean I don’t regret it.”   
We sat in silence for a few moments and I took the time to try and remember some more, but my memories had faded into the background of my mind once again and I sighed in frustration. My thoughts then wandered back to the present and I remembered the map I had in my pocket.   
“Oh, Nori, you know this place well don’t you?”   
“Aye, lass, none better,” he said, the familiar glint returning to his eye.   
“Do you recognise this?” I pulled the map out and unfolded it, searching for the symbol in the northern inlet of the Mountain. “I feel like I’ve seen it before but - surprise, surprise - I can’t quite remember why.”   
I pointed to the symbol – a red ‘x’ between two lines.   
“That’s the door,” Nori answered immediately. I looked up at him with slight bewilderment that he had answered so quickly.   
“Door?”   
“The secret door we came through, the one Thorin had the key to.” He met my gaze. “Do you remember? We had to reach it before Durin’s day, though you never came through it of course. You stayed in Lake-town.”   
“I did?” I frowned. “Why?”   
“Well, uh -” he seemed flustered all of a sudden. “Kíli was sick and you, uh – you stayed to take care of him.”   
“Oh,” I paused, my mind going infuriatingly blank once again. “I don’t remember that…” I trailed off as something began to slowly unfurl at the back of my mind.   
“I remember feeling… I think I was angry at him.” I frowned and looked over at Nori.   
“I wouldn’t know…” he muttered but avoided my gaze as he cleared his throat.   
I decided against pursuing the subject and turned back to the map.   
“So it’s a secret door?”   
“Yes,” Nori answered and peered down at the map again. “And Thorin would like to keep it that way for now. So if you could -”   
“Not mention it? Duly noted.”   
“You see these?” he placed his finger on the symbol and began to trace a series of lines on the map, drawn in a paler ink. “Secret passages. I’ve been mapping them out for Thorin. Some of them are caved in, others are fairly intact and some need a little clearing out.”   
A childish flicker of curiosity ignited in my head as I followed the map with him and I couldn’t help smiling excitedly.   
“Secret passages?” I echoed. “Should you be telling me this?”   
“As a member of Thorin’s Company I don’t think he’ll mind,” Nori winked. “But, to be safe, maybe just -”   
“Don’t mention it?” I finished for him and we shared a grin.   
“Speaking of Thorin,” Nori got to his feet. “I’m meant to meet with him soon. You all finished down here?”   
“Aye, I think so.” I replied and folded the map up once more. I placed it back in my pocket and let my fingers rest against the runestone again.   
“I think Bifur’s working in the main hall, he could escort you back to your chambers?”   
“That’s out of your way isn’t it?” I asked him. “The council chambers are on the northern side of the mountain.”   
“Not a problem for me,” Nori shrugged. “I’m meant to be exercising this am I not?” He tapped his injured leg with a grin.   
“No,” I shook my head. “I don’t want you pushing it. I can find my way back from here.”   
“Are you sure?” His face filled with concern. “Thorin ordered us to keep you safe.”   
“You’re going to the eastern promenade aren’t you? It’s only through the gallery from there. I’m sure I can make it.”   
He considered for a moment before slowly nodding. “Only if you’re absolutely sure.”   
“I am.” I smiled reassuringly, though he did not look entirely convinced.

When we reached the promenade he paused next to the stairway leading down into the gallery.   
“Now,” he addressed me in a low voice. “You swear you’ll go straight to Bifur?”   
“I swear,” I replied, taking his hand and interlocking our fingers before holding them up between our chests.   
“What are you doing?” he frowned in confusion.   
“My brother and I used to do it,” I told him, forcing the heaviness in my chest to make way for a small smile. “It means we can’t ever break the promise, else we forfeit our bond with each other forever.”   
The memory of the last promise I made to my little brother reared its ugly head, but for now I pushed it back down, focusing on Nori and his understanding nod.   
“Good,” he said. “Then I’ll be off. I’ll see you tomorrow?”   
“I would like that,” I smiled warmly and he returned it before bidding me farewell and heading off down the promenade. I turned to make my way down the stairs, down and down until I found myself stepping out into the gallery.   
The pure gold coating the floor was almost blinding at first, taking the small amount of light drifting in from the main hall, along with that provided by the torches, and multiplying it to give a shine worthy of the sun itself. The first step I took onto it was tentative, like a newborn foal taking its first steps, and my leather boot slid a few precarious inches before I managed to find a grip.   
“So,” a mellifluous voice echoed through the hall and I spun at the sound to find the figure of a dwarf half-hidden in the shadows beneath the great pillars surrounding the central expanse. “The orphan of Man returns?”   
I recognised the voice, but once again the door to the answers I knew lay within my mind remained stubbornly locked.   
“Who’s there?” I asked as assertively as I dared.   
A long, low laugh answered and the figure moved behind the pillar, emerging on the other side still hidden except for his iron, horn-toed boots and one gloved hand resting calmly on the thick, square-hilt of a dagger.   
“They said you lost your memories,” he said, clearly amusing himself. “I thought perhaps it was a ruse of some sort, to weasel your way back to your own kind. Then again, there is little of worth to be found among those meagre fisherfolk. The kingdom of Erebor, however -” he stepped down onto the gold floor, illuminating his deep red coat, the rich leather belt with his beard tucked in, the same shade of dark red as his bushy hair – “that is a sizable prize and no mistake.”   
His face was terribly familiar, the sight making me instinctively reach towards my hip, as if to draw a weapon. Even as my hair began to stand on end, my mind whirred furiously in the search for a name. The same slither of dread that had forewarned my attack in the stable yard began to slowly crawl down my back once again as he took another step towards me.   
“My brother and I had hoped your absence might have given the princes a chance to focus on their duties for a change. But the royal family have such a strange obsession with you. Those closest to them often refer to you as **_udmê_**. Comrade.”   
I decided not to respond to that, but I could not stop my deepening frown as I tried even harder to remember where I had seen him before. In my efforts I did not notice that he had come even closer, now halfway across the hall towards me.   
“Are you aware that Thorin is my cousin?” he asked.   
I shook my head.   
“Yes, my father was younger brother to his father. The spare to the heir.” He seemed to spit out these words and I found myself taking a step backwards. The heel of my boot caught on the stone and slammed to the gold floor, sending a large, metallic thud resounding through the gallery. The dwarf seemed unfazed.   
“The second-born left with the scraps after the pack leader has eaten his share,” he continued. “But he did not complain. He took what he was given and he used it wisely.” He paused, now barely six feet from me.   
“While he did not hold the power of his elder he shared equally the responsibility, if only to prepare himself should his chance ever arrive.”   
_Is he prone to speaking in riddles or is he deliberately trying to confuse me?  
_ The small smirk pulling up the corner of his thin mouth answered my question for him.   
“Of course,” he continued. “You would understand what it is to await opportunity. What you lack is the capacity to understand responsibility. Much like your protector.”   
He paused to stare at me, studying me like a jewel under an eyeglass.   
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I forced out in a shaky voice.   
“Oh yes you do,” He scoffed in my face. “Or do you not remember that either? I suppose it was years ago now, but I am not ashamed to say my nose still twinges slightly at the memory. Prince Kíli has a strong arm.”   
It was as if a heavy stone had been dropped into my head, causing images to ripple through my mind in sheer waves. There had been raucous laughter and jokes that I could not hear, then shouts, insults, the sound of knuckles meeting flesh and Kíli’s fury turning to concern as he met my gaze, telling me the insults had been directed at me. Not an hour later had my entire being been pushed to the brink of violation and anguish. The names thrust upon me that night thundered around my head as I beheld the glint that had reached Fáin’s eye and then I was running. I tore out of the gallery into the wide hallway leading into the main hall, only slowing once I had entered the vast cavern and secreted myself into the milling crowd. Despite the vastness of the hall and the number of dwarves present, I heard nothing beyond the sound of my own heart hammering within my chest against the constraints of my lungs, which seemed to have stopped working. My feet carried me swiftly and ungainly, and more than once I was forced to apologise for stepping on a foot or into a shoulder. The third time my arm connected with another, I turned to apologise only to find myself face to face with Dwalin.   
“Oh, thank the gods,” I muttered without thinking.   
“What was that lass?”   
“Nothing,” I shook my head quickly, forcing a smile onto my face, but Dwalin did not return it.   
“What’re yeh doin’ out by yerself?”   
“I was with Nori but he had to get to a meeting,” I answered automatically. “I was looking for Bifur but I couldn’t spot him in this crowd.”   
“He left you alone?” he growled.   
“No!” I insisted. “I told him to go.”   
He seemed to consider my response for a moment but eventually gave an accepting nod.   
“He’s over there,” he nodded to his left. “Are yeh wantin’ to head to the library?”   
“No, actually I – uh – I’m quite tired, the ponies were difficult today. I think I’ll head back to my quarters and rest awhile, if you have no objection?”   
“Not at all,” Dwalin moved aside to wave me past him. “I’ll escort yeh.”   
“There’s no need,” I tried to placate him.   
“Yeh know there is, as well as I,” he raised a bushy eyebrow. “Now, off yeh go.”   
I did my best to smile in thanks as we set off.

Dwalin left me to rest but all I had been able to do was remove my coat before I began to pace the length of my room and back. It all made sense now; the attack, the dwarvish dagger, the need I had felt to stay away, and the sense of comfort I felt towards Kíli; he had protected me then and he still did now. Dwarves were steadfast and loyal, always. But they were also stubborn, with long memories and resolves as solid as the very stone I walked upon. The Company must know, yet they had not told me. Doubtless they had some noble reason, or perhaps they did not trust me to be of sound enough mind. This made me pause as a horrible sense of paranoia threatened to join the fray inside my head. In a bid for comfort I reached into my pocket for the runestone, whose abilities to calm and centre my raging thoughts proved once again to be matchless. I managed to breathe more slowly and as I gathered my thoughts, I realised the second object I was feeling against the back of my fingers. Slowly, I pulled out the map and opened it, letting my eyes fall randomly on the passages until I found the familiar symbol.   
The secret door.   
I knew what I had to do.

I waited until both Balin and Dwalin were long asleep before my plan went into action. My remaining clothes and some food from the pantry were stuffed into a small pack and I wrapped Bard’s cardigan tightly around me, fastening it with a belt scavenged from one of the drawers. Then, with the map in my hand and the runestone safely tucked into my pocket, I crept into the corridor to the tapestry that hung by Balin’s door in the corner of the hall. Beneath it stood a small stone door that I had to bend to get through, and then a narrow corridor, plenty wide for me but I could imagine it being a tight squeeze for even one dwarf. Up and up it spiralled for a matter of minutes until finally I reached the second door at the top, opening into a wide, grander corridor; taller and made of darker stone that appeared dark, dark blue under the fading torchlight. I peered at the map in the dim light; it looked like I needed to take the second turning on the left to get to the northern quadrant of the mountain. Then I would need to find the narrow passage on the north-west corridor to take me down to the door. Within ten minutes I found myself in the long stone hallway which the map told me ran parallel to the treasury. A cold, sharp feeling slid down my spine as I made my way down, looking for the correct turn. About halfway down I came to a narrow passage on my right, winding around a series of sharp, barely lit bends of sharp, dark stone and followed the tight path through until I found I was walking uphill. Slightly on edge, I kept on until finally I rounded a corner and found myself face to face with the thick, unevenly sloped stone of the inner mountainside. The slivers of moonlight shaping the gaps in the rock told me I had found the door and I found myself running towards it, as if the taste of freedom was pulling me like a reel pulls a fish from the water. It did not even occur to me that the door was ajar until I slipped through the gap, stepped out and felt my foot connect sharply with something hard. The ‘something’ grunted loudly along with me as I tumbled forward onto the solid stone.   
“Son of a -!”   
“What on earth -?”   
I tilted my head left to find myself face to face with a dwarf. He had been leaning against the mountain aside with his legs stretched out in front of him. Slowly, he leant forward into the moonlight, revealing a mane of golden hair.   
“Fíli?” I frowned at him.  
“What are you doing here?” he demanded in a sharp voice.   
“I could ask you the same,” I groaned and tried to push myself up, hissing at the stinging sensation in my hands. His large hands locked around my arms and pulled me up with him.   
“I asked first,” he replied. “Let me see.” He reached for my hands.   
“It’s fine,” I peered at them in the dim light. My palms were scraped but not bleeding. “I was just…I couldn’t sleep.”   
“How did you find the door?” I thought I could see him frowning at me, whether against the darkness or not I could not tell.   
“I was just exploring,” I answered quickly. He seemed to accept this as I saw his shadowy form lower back to the ground.   
“Well, it seems we are of like mind this evening.”   
The panic I had felt at being discovered began to subside, and it dawned on me how tired he sounded.   
“You can’t sleep either?”   
A small movement in the darkness translated as a shake of the head. I deliberated for a few moments, wondering if I should leave him be. It seemed the obvious thing to do, but I found myself slowly sitting next to him, keeping a small distance between us. For several minutes we sat in silence, save the rustling of the night breeze breaking over the rough mountainside.   
“Does this happen often?” I finally asked.   
There was a short pause before he answered me.   
“Most nights,” he admitted quietly.    
“Do you want to talk about it?”   
“I…” he cleared his throat, but his voice was still barely above a whisper, as if it was reluctant to leave his throat. “I don’t think I can.”   
“Do you want to try?”   
Another long silence ensued and I began to think I had gone too far, until finally he spoke again.   
“I cannot escape it.”   
The voice that crept towards me was so broken and disjointed it sounded as if it was coming from a completely different creature. I didn’t entirely understand why, but the sound of it broke my heart and I found myself moving closer to him.   
“What can’t you escape?”   
A short, ragged breath tore from his lips.   
“The battle…the blood…my failures…”   
“Your what?”   
“I had one job,” he hissed. “I made only one promise and I could not even keep it. I was supposed to protect them -” His words were cut off to be replaced by sobs and I saw him hunch forward, as if doubled over in pain. I reached out to find his shoulder and at my touch he seemed to break completely. I shoved any reservations to the back of my mind and wrapped my arms around him, squeezing tightly. He tensed first, as if he was going to pull away but soon I felt his hard head collapse against my chest, and it took all my strength to keep him upright.   
By the time he had calmed down the pale grey light of dawn began to illuminate the sky above us. The western facing ledge we were on was largely shielded from it, but slowly it crept over us. Fíli’s face was hidden from view but his golden hair seemed duller, and more lifeless than even my patchy memory allowed. He had quietened so much that I began to fear he had fallen asleep. When he suddenly sat up I couldn’t help the shocked gasp that escaped me.   
“I am sorry,” he said hoarsely. “I did not mean to -”   
“It’s alright,” I cut him off, reaching out to grasp his shoulder, knowing somehow that he needed the anchor. I continued to struggle with the right words, even as I allowed the memories of my own failures to the forefront of my mind.   
“I…uh…” I stammered without looking at him. “I think I might know a little of how you feel…though I don’t know exactly, at least I don’t remember if I…but I remember making a promise a…a long time ago, and…” I trailed off as the sight of my brother’s terrified face began to dominate my thoughts, as it so often had in my nightmares.   
“I promised him I would come back for him, and I tried to lead the orcs away but they…I never made it back.”   
I felt as though a hole was being torn through my chest but there were no tears in my eyes; this was not my time to grieve. I swallowed hard before turning to face Fíli, whose tears were still shimmering on his cheeks, highlighting the exhausted redness in his eyes. He took a deep, shuddering breath before leaning back against the rock, his head tilted up towards the fading stars.   
“I promised Âmad I would protect Kíli and Thorin,” he said softly. “But she told me in no uncertain terms that I was not to be reckless, nor try to be heroic, but to turn tail and run if that was what it took to return to her.” His eyes closed as his chest heaved with the effort to keep himself from breaking and as I watched him I began to feel a visceral urge to protect him, the same urge I would feel for my own brother. Alongside this came that strange sensation of familiarity, as if I had experienced this before, and I frowned slightly, trying to refocus on Fíli.   
“And you broke that promise?” I asked, slowly.   
He nodded stiffly. “Stupid…stupid. It was all my fault. I almost got us all killed. If it had not been…” He tailed off, his face flushing slightly as if he had caught himself before a mistake.   
“Had not been for what?”   
“Nothing,” he said quietly.   
I considered pushing the issue but one more look at his exhausted expression made me drop it altogether.   
“Fíli, you cannot blame yourself for this,” I told him. “I don’t remember exactly what happened but I do know what it is to feel this guilt.”   
“I know you do,” he replied, finally looking round at me. “That is why I told you. You are the only one who can truly understand.”   
“What about Kíli?”   
At this Fíli shook his head. “He did exactly what I knew he would do. That is why I told him to search the lower levels. I thought if I could kill Azog quickly then there would be no need for him or Thorin to…” he trailed off again and, to my surprise, let out a laugh.   
“Who am I to talk?” he scoffed. “I ran right into Azog’s trap.”   
“What do you mean?”   
“He waited for us to come to him. Orc generals do not normally remain behind their armies. They are too bloodthirsty, they cannot bear to miss their chance to kill as many as possible. But Azog, he remained on Ravenhill because he knew that Thorin would want to kill him himself. He waited for us to come and then he hid until one of us came looking for him. And that is exactly what I did…stupid…”   
By the time he finished his voice had faded into a whisper.   
“Fíli…” I tried to think what I could say to him but my mind was as useless as ever; instead of finding words it simply whirred into a frenzy of forgotten memories and white noise, and I found myself sitting and staring dumbly at Fíli when I should have been comforting him.   
“I have never been so scared in all my life,” he continued, his voice barely carrying above the light, morning breeze. “When Azog’s orcs got hold of me and I could not even fight back. And when he carried me out onto that tower, like a plaything, and I saw Thorin looking back at me…I knew I had failed in everything I had set out to do, and I have never felt anything like that before…”   
The sight was so clear in the forefront of my mind, it was as if a curtain of fog had lifted all of a sudden. I could see the tower, standing above the lake of ice, surrounded by snow and crumbling rock. I saw the eerie, orange glow within the stone, the tall, pale figure emerging from the mists and the angular, black bow raised in front of me, the arrow pulled as far as my aching muscles would allow.   
_Please, Mahal, fly true._   
Fíli looked back to me when I did not speak and slowly his face seemed to lighten slightly, like the spark that tries to revive a dying flame.   
“You remember.”   
It was a statement, rather than a question, and I nodded.   
“I thought it must have been a bad dream,” I said. “I could never force my legs to move fast enough, I was terrified I would miss.”   
“But you did not miss,” he breathed, leaning forward to place a hand on my shoulder. “You saved my life.”   
“As you saved mine. On the road, in the goblin caves, the night of the dinner.”   
“That was not just me,” he began but I cut him off.   
“It was you,” I clasped his shoulder back as I spoke. “You are one of the bravest dwarves I know, Fíli, son of Nalí. You can be a cocky bastard but you are definitely not stupid.”   
He looked half-affronted, half-amused by my outburst and I was happy to see a small smile threaten to pull at the corner of his mouth.   
“You did what you thought was right at the time,” I pressed on. “I am sure that Thorin and Kíli both know that. But trust me when I tell you that you must speak to them about it. If you don’t you will always wonder, and the guilt will eat you up and spit you out in pieces.”   
Fíli seemed to wince at this and I felt him tense beneath my hand. I removed my hand from his shoulder and took his hand instead.   
“As much as I want to remember everything,” I said softly. “If I could choose between that and speaking to my brother one last time…”  
“What would you say to him?” he asked, slowly, as if he was afraid of the answer.   
“I would want him to know I was sorry, that I love him but…” I took a moment to swallow my tears back down through my constricting throat. “Most of all I would tell him that I did not abandon him, that I tried to come back and I didn’t mean to break my promise.”   
A few moments of silence followed my confession. Fíli kept a firm grip on my hand, comforting, yet needful, like a bird clinging to a tree in a storm.   
“Fíli, I lost my brother,” I told him, my voice cracking with the effort to remain steady. “But yours is still here, because of you.”   
He looked up at me, a quick movement of the head that I was not expecting, and opened his mouth as if to speak. For a moment he remained silent, then he seemed to swallow what his words and try again.   
“I will speak to him after breakfast.”   
I nodded and he seemed to deflate, his fatigue becoming even more obvious and before I knew it I was wrapping my arms around him and pulling him in for a hug. It took him a few moments but he soon returned it, locking his heavy arms around my waist and resting his head on my shoulder.   
“Thank you,” he spoke into shoulder.   
“You’re welcome.”   
“Cairi?”   
“Yes?”   
“What is that?”   
His arms loosened and I pulled away, following his concerned gaze round to my pack, sprawled across the rock where it had fallen. The map was sticking out underneath it.   
“Oh…” Without a word in my head, I turned to Fíli with the intent to fabricate some morsel of excuse, but one look from him told me exactly how guilty I looked.   
“Why?” he asked.   
I dropped my gaze to the ground, unable to bear his anxious expression.   
“I just…I thought it was for the best.”   
“I don’t understand.” His voice was soft with worry. “Have we not made you feel welcome.”   
“No, no,” I shook my head urgently. “It’s nothing to do with you, it’s…it’s me…” I could feel the panic welling up inside me as I tried to think. In my peripheral vision I saw him move closer to me.   
“We can fix it.” He kept his voice steady but when I looked up his eyes were wide. “Whatever it is, we can fix it together. But please -” he moved his hand as if to reach out to me but seemed to think better of it. “- please don’t leave.”   
“Fíli, I can’t -”   
“You must,” he pleaded. “It is far too dangerous to go off by yourself. You cannot go back to Dale.”   
I suppressed a shudder.   
“Where were you going to go?”   
“I don’t know,” I muttered truthfully. “I could head south, take Angus and find another caravan?”   
My answer was so weak, even I could not make it sound convincing. Fíli only shook his head.   
“Whatever it is you are afraid of, this is not the answer.” This time he did take my hand. “Please, don’t leave.”   
“What should I stay for Fíli?” I tugged my hand from his grip and sighed in frustration. “I cannot live the rest of my life with one of you lot as my shadow. And if I have another encounter like today -”   
“What kind of encounter?”   
I could not help but wince at my slip of the tongue. Uselessly, I attempted to shake my head. “It does not matter -”   
“It does,” he said, his tone much sterner now. He seemed to grow as he fixed me with a look I suspected was mainly saved for more unpleasant conversations with his advisors. “If one of the dwarves in this mountain has threatened you I need to know.”   
“I don’t want to make any trouble -”   
“Tell me.”   
Despite the fact that he was pale with fatigue and the skin on his cheek still shone with the drying track of tears, neither his tone, expression nor stature left any room for argument. I ducked my head as I answered him.   
“I saw Fáin today,” I told him in a low voice.   
“Fáin,” he echoed. “You do remember him then?”   
“I do now,” I nodded and looked back to him. “He was at the ambassador’s dinner.”    
“Aye,” Fíli nodded slowly. “How did this happen? I thought Nori was supposed to be with you today?”   
“He was,” I said quickly. “But he had to get to a meeting with Thorin and I only had to go through the gallery to get to the main hall so I said I would find Bifur myself.”   
At this Fíli let out a long, frustrated sigh, bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose.   
“He should never have left you alone. I’ll be having words with him.”   
“Please don’t,” I tried to insist but the panic in my mind seemed to be seeping into my very blood. “I made him go. It’s my own fault really for stopping.”   
“Never mind that now,” he waved his hand dismissively.   
“What exactly did Fáin say to you?”   
I relayed the incident as quickly as I could, watching his face carefully though he kept his expression decidedly neutral, only nodding occasionally as I spoke. When I finally finished he sat in silence for a few moments, never breaking my gaze. Slowly, he seemed to relax, closing his eyes briefly as he breathed out and when he opened them again they were warm.   
“Listen to me,” he spoke softly, but benevolently, holding my gaze as one would hold a bird in their hands, waiting for it to take wing. “Fáin cannot touch you while you are under our protection. To do so would mean death or exile for him, and he is not willing to risk that. He will have others working for him, but I doubt even they would risk such severe punishment even for him. As long as you are with us, you are safe.”   
“I don’t feel safe,” I admitted. “The last time I saw him…barely an hour later I was locked in a room with three rapists.”   
“I know.” His voice seemed to harden. “And that is why we are watching him. One misstep, one wrong turn, one word from him that we don’t like and he is gone.”   
“You’re going to kill him?” I asked, shocked.   
“No, he is Thorin’s cousin and Dáin’s lord of the council. We would need to catch him committing a serious crime with a great amount of evidence for that to happen.” He stopped to consider for a moment before continuing in a lower voice. “Besides, even if we were to do so, I do not think any of us relish the thought of killing another dwarf. Even one as twisted as Fáin.”   
I nodded slowly. “I understand, but how long would all of this take?”   
“It could be days, weeks, years,” Fíli admitted. “But we will catch him. And until we do, you will be safe.”   
“I don’t know Fee,” I began to shake my head but then froze.   
_What did I just call him?  
_ If he noticed, he gave nothing away. Instead he tentatively reached for my hand again and this time I let it rest on mine.   
“Please, Cairi. We don’t want you to leave… I don’t want you to leave.”   
My eyes met his once again and the morning sun was reflecting softly in the small, deep, blue seas.   
“I know you probably don’t remember exactly,” he continued. “But you are the closest thing I have ever had to a sister.”   
_“Baby sister’s just having fun.”  
“You really need to stop calling me that,” I warned, pointing sharply at him, though I could not stop smiling._   
I blinked in surprise as the cogs in my head began to turn, images and sounds slipping in and out of focus like a flurry of dreams in the midst of a fever. The urge to write came upon me suddenly and I thought back to my piles of parchment still lying on the desk in my bedroom in Dale. The dwarf in front of me, however, was definitely not a dream, neither was he a distorted image delved from the forgotten relics of my disjointed memories. He was flesh and blood and he was here; looking at me, touching me and waiting for me to answer. I decided to trust my gut, and it was pulling me towards him like the wind pulling a leaf from a tree.   
“All right,” I nodded. I will stay.”


	17. Not all tears are an evil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're getting there, slowly but surely. Exams will be over in just under 3 weeks so hopefully I can finish this off over the summer. I do have more ideas for this on the go, not just this story but others too. (That's part of the reason I've been so slow to finish this...) It would be nice to hear back from anyone who's still reading - if you'd like to read more, or something different and you have a minute to comment?   
> If you are still reading, thank you, you're a saint :) <3

_ Vana/Cairi _

“WHERE IN THE NAME OF MAHAL’S LEFT YAMBAG HAVE YOU BEEN?!”   
I flinched at Dwalin’s less than warm greeting as I entered the front hall of their quarters, followed closely by Fíli. Dwalin was already halfway towards me by the time Balin had turned in his seat at the dining table, looking visibly relieved.    
“I’m sorry,” I replied. “I couldn’t sleep.”   
“D’yeh think we’re thick as that damned skull o’ yours?” he asked, savagely.   
“That’s enough,” Fíli tried to intervene but he may as well have been invisible.   
“Yeh’re carryin’ a bag, it’s obvious what yeh were plannin’.”   
“And it’s obvious I changed my mind too,” I huffed, dumping the pack unceremoniously on the table. By now, Balin had gotten to his feet.   
“We’re awfully glad you did, lassie,” he said softly, though his smile did not quite reach his ears. He then turned to his brother, his tone markedly sharper. “Aren’t we?”   
“Aye,” Dwalin grumbled. “Glad yeh saw sense. What were yeh thinkin’?”   
“I didn’t fancy staying in a place where more folk want me dead,” I growled and collapsed into a chair, scowling up at him. He did not seem sympathetic.   
“What changed your mind?” Balin asked more gently.   
“He did,” I nodded at Fíli who looked at me in slight alarm. “I ran into him on the way up and he brought me back.” The relief was clear in his eyes even as he resumed his mask and gave me a brief nod.   
“Aye,” he cleared his throat and addressed Dwalin. “Lucky I decided to get an early start.”   
“Speaking of,” Dwalin grumbled and turned to head into the kitchen. He emerged a moment later with half a loaf of bread and a water-skin. “Yer comin’ with me.”   
I blinked once before realising he was talking to me.   
“I beg your pardon.”   
“No arguments,” he said in a dangerously low voice. “Get up.”   
I knew better than to argue.

He led me down through the mountain, still unnervingly quiet in the early hour. Through the entrance hall the light was pale and tired, creeping in over the near-repaired gate.   
“Where are we going?” I asked for the third time. He was several paces in front of me but he did not turn to reply.   
“Yeh’ll see,” I heard him say. “Eat up.”   
I huffed and took a bite of the bread. We headed further into the mountain to the central stairway and followed it down, down and down until I had long finished my plain breakfast. I knew we were heading into the southern quarter beneath the entrance and central halls but I had never been down here before. Finally, he led me down a wide corridor and into a deep, wide room. The ceiling was easily seventy feet high, the walls curving in a dome around us. The stone was a deep green-blue colour, recently lit by torches and as I turned to take in my surroundings I saw that along the side of the wall on either side of the archway were racks upon racks of weapons. I swallowed hard at the sight, feeling my recently-filled stomach start to churn.   
“What are we doing here?” I asked warily. For a moment he did not answer and I turned to see him heading back towards me, having picked up two thick, wooden, sword-sized sticks.   
“If yer afraid that someone’s goin’ to kill yeh,” he said in a low voice. “Yeh’d best go over yer manoeuvres.”   
“No,” I shook my head. “I won’t do it.”   
“Aye, yeh will.”   
“No,” I tried to move away but he only mirrored my movements and I before I knew it he was between me and the exit. “This is ridiculous! I don’t even know how to!”   
“If that were true, yeh wouldn’t be here,” he said simply and held out one of the sticks to me.   
Before I could stop it, I could feel the chill of the winter air and the hard ground beneath my feet, the thud of the sword against the orcs’ armour and bodies, the blood on my skin… It was horrible, unfamiliar – yet I knew that if I got hold of that weapon I would know what to do with it, how to use it, how to kill.   
He threw the stick to me and I caught it instinctively. The very fact that I possessed this instinct – yet another aspect of a foreign past – was enough to push me over the edge.   
“I am not doing this!”   
“Aye, yeh are!” he growled, adjusting his grip on his own. “And I’ll hear no more on the subject.”   
“I don’t know how!” I cried, flinching at the high pitch of my own voice.   
“Yes, yeh do!”   
“No, I don’t!”   
“Yes, yeh do!”   
“No, I d-” My words gave way to a shout ripping its way out of my throat with enough force to throw my head back. The anger was making my blood run hot beneath my skin and I could feel my control slipping away. “This is stupid!”   
“No,” he darted forward and smacked me on the arm with the stick. “No’ defendin’ yerself when faced with an opponent is stupid.”   
It didn’t hurt but the surprise only intensified the rage coiling in my body. I glared at him and threw my stick to the ground, storming past him towards the archway.   
“I’m not doing this,” I repeated. “I can look after myself just fine, I think I proved that.” I turned my back only to be met with a blow to my shoulder that sent me stumbling forward.   
“Never turn yer back on yer enemies.”   
“Stop it!” I shouted and straightened up to face him. “I can’t do this!”   
“Aye, yeh can,” Dwalin hissed, his face contorting in anger. “It’s either fight or die!” He kicked the stick loudly across the stone towards me.  
“Is that so,” I let out a mocking laugh. “You going to beat me to death with that stick if I don’t?”   
“I would if I were a bandit,” he growled and advanced towards me. “Or a desperate farmer with a knife.”   
“Don’t you dare,” I growled and started to back away. The rage was red hot inside my head.   
“Pretend I’m him,” Dwalin pressed on, raising the stick again. “Pretend I’m the man who tried to kill yeh, or the orcs that murdered yer family!”   
“SHUT UP!” I screamed and dove forward, snatching the stick from the ground and aiming with all my strength for his stomach. He blocked me easily but I spun around and swung again for him. I thought the action would dispel the anger raging through my body but it only seemed to intensify, spreading from my head through my chest and out to my limbs; my arms were flew through the air towards my target only to meet with the horrendous crash of stick on stick; my legs propelled me over the ground towards my target, back again to avoid his swings and through the air as I leapt towards him with a yell. The rage inside me pulsed red hot with every breath, but it was no longer a weight pinning me in place, it was a source of power greater than anything I remembered feeling. My body moved on instinct, reacting to glimpses of my target’s movement and the sounds of his feet on the stone and his stick whipping through the air towards me. For the first time in months the entire world disappeared and I was no longer thinking.  
The blow to my left wrist came first, making me flinch sideways into his well-timed blow to my leg and finally to my back, knocking me to my knees. I tilted my head up to glare at him as he rested the stick lightly against my throat.   
“No’ bad lass,” said Dwlain, flicking the stick to his side and extending his free hand towards me. I snarled and reeled away, leaping to my feet and ignoring the burning muscles in my arms and legs. Brandishing the stick, I moved into the stance I had perfected some time ago.  
“Don’t ever talk about my family again.”   
His expression flickered for a moment, his eyes widening slightly and the skin beneath his beard reddening. He blinked once, twice, before his face hardened once more and he gave a quick nod before attacking again.

_ Fíli _

_“I lost my brother, but yours is still here.”_

Her words echoed through his mind as if reverberating off the stone and Fíli wandered slowly through the western halls with the weight of them firmly upon his shoulders. He felt his feet taking him up the stairs towards his brother, but they seemed to be doing so of their own accord. He relished the quiet of the mountain at this hour, with none save the small number of guards stationed in the halls adjacent to the royal quarters. He knew that they saw him leave every night and return in the early hours, but they said nothing. For that he was grateful. Thorin had more than enough to be worrying about without his own problems getting in the way. Kíli was focused on his own dilemma, as he should be. He had no idea what it was like, save the answers he could occasionally get from their conversations, but it always led to Kíli asking him questions he was not prepared to answer.   
_That has to stop,_ he told himself. It wasn’t fair. Kíli would blame himself, he knew. He would blame Thorin, the battle, the orcs, Mahal himself before he would admonish his older brother for being an idiot.   
_That’s exactly what you were Fíli: a senseless, brainless idiot._ He shivered as he felt the twinge on the back of his neck, once bruised from a rough hand; and the sick churn of his stomach as he was hoisted into the air as if he weighed nothing. He squeezed his eyes shut as the guttural black words that had signalled his death resounded inside his head as if Azog himself was thundering in his ear.   
_He’s dead!_ He tried to shout over it. _His body burned on Ravenhill!  
And that was no thanks to you either.   
_ “M’lord?”   
His eyes snapped open and he saw that he had reached door to the royal quarters. The guards watched him curiously before the one who had spoken addressed him again.   
“Are ye well, Lord Fíli?”   
“Aye,” he attempted to say but his voice was dry and hoarse. He coughed once and tried again. “I’m fine, thank you. Has my brother left yet?”   
“No, m’lord. I believe they’re all still abed.”   
He nodded and thanked them again before stepping between them to open the door. The royal corridor was still dark, no one had lit the torches yet. He passed Thorin’s chambers and then the following rooms they were saving for Dis when she arrived. Opposite this was his own and next door was Kíli. He wandered slowly towards his brother’s door, a deep black stone build with a handle of silver. He must still be asleep, he decided and turned back to his own door before a rustling sound caught his ear. There was movement within.   
He raised his hand to knock twice and waited, his throat constricting with every breath.   
“Enter,” Kíli’s voice echoed through the stone and Fíli turned the handle and stepped in.   
Kíli was sitting on the end of his unmade bed at the far side of the room, pulling his socks on. His hair was uncombed and he was wearing only a shirt and trousers. His coat was slung over the ancient, faded cushions of the couch.   
“You’re up early,” he said, feeling silly as he did.   
“As are you,” said Kíli, pulling his boots on as he straightened up. “Did you even get to bed last night?”   
Fíli only shook his head and closed the door behind him.   
“No, I did not.” He stood awkwardly by the door and Kíli watched his brother carefully as he stood up.   
“Why not?”   
“I couldn’t sleep.” He knew he was stalling, telling Kíli the same thing he always did.   
“Well,” Kíli sighed and Fíli knew he thought he would hear no more explanation. “I’m heading down to the merchant’s quarters to help with the repairs. Why don’t you join me?”   
“Can we talk first?” He hated how forced the words sounded, though the dryness in his throat hopefully meant there would be no tears this time.   
“If you like,” Kíli said and walked to the couch, gathering up his coat and gesturing at the armchair opposite. “Please.”   
Fíli accepted the offer and sat down stiffly. Kíli took a seat on the couch, his coat folded over his arm. He did not expect the talk to last long. For several moments Fíli attempted to open his mouth, trying to form the words he had so easily given barely an hour ago. He hated this more than anything; that he could not tell his innermost thoughts to his brother, who knew him better than any other, whom he had shared everything with his entire life.   
“Fee,” Kíli’s low voice drew his attention back to him. “Does this have something to do with Cairi?”   
Clearing his throat Fíli shook his head. “Not exactly.”   
“Thorin?”   
He shook his head again.   
“Âmad?”   
Once more he repeated his response. Kíli placed his coat on the arm of the chair and leaned in towards him, resting his arms on his knees.   
“Just tell me.”   
The words were simple, yet Fíli’s heart hammered in his chest with distress. Kíli waited, motionless, his eyes never leaving his older brother’s face until the silence between them was too heavy to bear.   
“Do you still think of the battle?”   
This caught Fíli’s attention.   
“Do you not?” he frowned slightly.   
“Occasionally,” said Kíli. “But I can usually force it away.”   
“Can you?” Fíli’ voice was as dry as throat. “That must be nice.”   
Kíli frowned.   
“That’s not the word I would choose.”   
“What would you choose?”   
“I don’t know,” he groaned, rubbing a hand over his forehead. “Necessary? Sensible? Prudent?”   
“Lucky?”   
Kíli’s frown returned, as did his piercing gaze.   
“‘Lucky?’”   
“Aye,” Fíli nodded, clenched his jaw and forced his eyes to meet his brother’s. “To be able to shut it all off? Close the door and throw away the key? To be able to work, speak to others and look in the mirror without seeing it all before your eyes as if it were happening again – yes I’d say you very lucky.”   
“Your scar?” Kíli hissed. “Your beard’s in a knot because of your scar?”   
Fíli could not help but scoff as the shame he had been carrying for months ignited in red hot anger and drove him to his feet.   
“You think I lie awake, unable to close my eyes because of a scar? You think I wander the halls of this place in search of peace from a scar? When there are so many who will never wake nor wander again! Mahal, Kíli, I would have thought after seventy-eight years you’d know me better than that!”   
“I did not say it was unworthy to lose sleep over,” his brother replied in a low voice, remaining in his seat. “I only meant that wounds do not heal any faster by inflicting more pain on yourself.”   
“You think I inflict this on myself? You think I am looking for attention like a child?”   
“I do not know what you are speaking of so how I can I tell you what I think?” cried Kíli, leaping to his feet. “Every time I see you you’re either working too much or you insist on turning the subject back to me!”  
Fíli had never resented his brother’s excess of height more.   
“Because you needed me!”   
“And did you not need me?”   
“I told you I did! Back in the spring I told you, but you were not ready!”   
Kíli did not appear to have an answer to this, but his expression was unyielding.   
“Well I’m here now,” he said more levelly. “Tell me what’s wrong.”   
Immediately the shields in Fíli’s mind began to rise.  
“It is not that simple.”   
“Why not?”   
“Because it is hard to explain.”   
“Because you do not think I’ll understand?”   
“No -”   
“You think me too weak to handle it?”   
“No -”   
“You think I will laugh at you?”   
Fíli remained silent.   
“Why would I do that?” Kíli pressed, taking a step towards him. “You think me so callous?”   
“I do not think you are callous?”   
“You think I don’t care about you?”   
“I never said -”   
“Perhaps I should hound you day and night as you did me?” Kíli jeered and once more Fíli could feel his blood burn.   
“Perhaps I should spend every spare moment demanding you talk about it, examine it in detail and then tell you exactly what you are doing wrong. Or would you not appreciate that, brother? Would you find it irritating, invasive and painful? Would it make you seethe with rage until you feel as though you will burst?”   
He was so close, he could feel his brother’s breath on his face, see the sparks in his dark, dark eyes.   
Suddenly, without warning, Fíli’s fist flew towards his little brother’s face. Kíli caught his fist with his hand and held it in an iron grip before his face. The fire his blood reflected that in Kíli’s eyes and Fíli felt a sick surge in his chest as he grabbed the back of his brother’s neck with his free hand and brought his knee up to his stomach. Kíli grunted and pushed hard at his shoulders but Fíli could not be stopped from ploughing into him, leaning down to grab him round the waist. Kíli held his ground, pushing back against his brother until they were both on the ground. Fíli pulled his hair; Kíli scratched his neck; Fíli kicked his shin; Kíli bit his arm. It was messy and vulgar, sheer frustration and stubbornness that would allow neither of them to relent. They wrestled and spat and cursed until, to Fíli’s disgust, he was trapped in a headlock with Kíli kneeling above him, unable to find release. He struggled pitifully for a few minutes, cursing his little brother every way he knew in both Khûzdul and the Common tongue until his words gave way and to his horror there were tears pouring down his face.   
Kíli let go of him and fell back against the couch.   
“Fíli?”   
He sniffed and let out a frustrated growl as he scrambled into a sitting position, knuckling his eyes furiously. “Damn it.”   
“Fíli,” Kíli’s voice was soft now. He slowly leaned over towards him. “Please tell me what’s wrong. I want to help you.”   
“I don’t know if I can talk about it Kee,” Fíli groaned, scrubbing the tear tracks from his cheeks and squeezing his eyes shut against the threatening heat of more. “Even to you, and it’s killing me.”   
“All right,” he said and moved a little closer. “Maybe you don’t have to tell me, but you need to talk to someone. Remember what Balin told us about battle-shock?”   
“I know,” he sighed and looked up at his little brother. “I already spoke to someone.”   
“That’s good,” Kíli nodded. “Who?”   
“You’re not going to like this,” he muttered.   
“What do you mean?”   
“I ran into Cairi earlier.”   
He watched the flurry of expressions pass over Kíli’s face with trepidation; surprise, confusion, sadness and more, all in the space of a moment before he swallowed them all and nodded as if in acceptance.   
“Where?”   
“In the western hall,” Fíli answered after a quick deliberation. She had covered for him before after all. “She couldn’t sleep either and we got to talking.”   
“She’s been doing that a lot it seems,” Kíli murmured, seemingly to himself. He decided not to enquire further. “What did you talk about?”   
“Many things. She…she understands it a little…” He could feel the wall coming up again, but this time he fought against it, the words inside his head slamming against it like a battering ram.   
“Understands what exactly?” Kíli asked, clearly trying hard to keep his tone patient even as he frowned.   
“She…” He tried again. “A few days after she first woke we spoke a little. She told me about her family and…and what happened to them.”   
He had to stop there, his throat threatening to close up again; and again he forced his way past it. He saw Kíli’s jaw tighten and his instinct was to shut up, to avoid reminding him of those fateful days. It took all of his will, but he ignored it.   
“She…she knows what it’s like...to lose people. She lost her brother. He was just a child but he was entrusted to her protection and she…” This time his throat seized up completely and it was many long moments before he could dare to breathe again. Kíli’s face seemed to lose colour as realisation dawned. He sank back against the couch once again, causing it to slide back an inch across the stone floor with a loud scrape that only emphasised the deafening silence that followed. Fíli’s gaze dropped to the floor and his eyes slid shut as he felt a crushing weight lift from his shoulders.   
“You didn’t lose me, Fíli.”   
Kíli’s voice was low and deep, like the rumbling of embers in a slow-burning fire. For a moment Fíli was reminded of Thorin. He made no reply.   
“Fíli?” He heard Kíli move closer.   
“You did not lose me.” Kíli spoke more clearly, as if afraid that he had gone deaf.   
“I was supposed to protect you,” he whispered.   
“What?” Kíli moved closer still.   
“I thought I was protecting you. I knew Azog was there, in the tower, and I thought I could end it myself.” He buried his face his hands as the heat of his shame filled his face.   
“Fee?” He felt Kíli’s hand on his shoulder and tensed, tried to flinch away, but Kíli only gripped it harder.   
“Fíli, it wasn’t your fault.”   
“That’s exactly what Cairi said,” he replied before he could stop himself.   
“Well, she’s right.” Kíli was now holding both his arms. “I’m not saying what you did wasn’t stupid and reckless, but it’s exactly what Thorin or I would have done.”   
“Don’t say that.”   
“It’s true! Didn’t Thorin charge Azog on the mountainside? Didn’t I leap unarmed out of those barrels on the river?”   
“You didn’t put all our lives at risk.”   
“Neither did you -”  
“Yes I did!” He wrestled himself free of his brother’s reassuring hold and glared fiercely back at his face – so full of empathy and understanding that he wanted to scream. “I played right into Azog’s trap! I should have known he wanted to separate us, trap Thorin into fighting him alone!”   
“I didn’t see it either Fíli, neither did Thorin. He’s the one who sent us to scout the towers.”   
“He also ordered us not to engage. I ignored him. I’ve never done that before but I ignored him then and it almost cost us everything.”   
“But it didn’t Fíli! We’re here, we’re alive and that pale bastard is dead!” Kíli’s expression was as frantic as his words and it made Fíli want to run out of the room, the halls, the mountain itself.   
“I don’t deserve it, Kíli!”   
“Of course you don’t, no one deserves to go through what we -”   
“No!” Fíli shouted without meaning to, making Kíli flinch. He shook his head as he caught his breath, lowering his gaze once again before continuing in a voice so low he barely heard it himself: “I don’t deserve to be here.”   
He could not have told anyone how long the silence lasted, nor his brother’s expression at his admission. He knew Kíli would disagree, tell him he was wrong, he was a good person, brave, strong, a good brother – he couldn’t bear to hear it.   
“Then neither do I.”   
His gaze snapped up to his brother’s; grim and dull as the stone around them. Unable to speak, he simply stared, his shock painfully clear in his expression.   
“Fíli, I brought the woman I love on this quest even though I knew it was dangerous. I refused to stay even when Âmad told me how much it would hurt her to lose us. I promised to return to her, yet I entered a battle I thought I was doomed to lose. I left you alone on that tower, even though I knew you were heading into a fight. If you do not deserve to be here then neither do I.”   
Fíli could not have spoken if he had a knife to his throat. This was the most honest conversation he had held with his brother in months, and even with the months of lack of sleep, he could not remember feeling more exhausted.   
“Can you forgive me, Kíli?” he finally asked.   
“I do,” Kíli nodded and held out his hand. “Can you forgive me?”   
Fíli nodded, grasping his brother’s forearm and relishing the warmth it brought to his chest. “Aye.”   
Kíli’s grip tightened on him and his did the same in return; then he reached for his little brother and embraced him, feeling Kíli’s tension leave his body as his left him.   
“ _Men lananubukhs menu, nadadith,”_ he murmured and Kíli hugged him closer, repeating his older brother’s words back to him.


End file.
